


Knight in denim armor

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Dead Sheriff, Discussions about spanking, First Time Blow Jobs, Good Alpha Peter, Hale Fire happend, Hurt/Comfort, Light D/s, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Kidnapping, Peter is 38, Self discovery..hope.., Threats of rape ..( nothing happens but the implied threat is there), exploration of Daddy Kink, religious / werewolf antis' extremists, safe words, stiles is 19, sweet emotional sex...loss of virginity ..sass and snark ...ample helpings of FLUFF!, talk of past abuse, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: Peter was not looking to be a hero, or a knight striding in to save the day, he just wanted a cold drink.. Well you know what they say about announcing your plans out loud
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 163
Kudos: 388
Collections: Steter Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my contribution to Steterweek 2020 ..I have tried to meld Pack of Two ( or more) and Free day. This is a long fic and I am halfway through writing it so there are lots of chapters ready to go :) ...this would not have happend if it were not for the mad ninja skills of Bunnywest and the ever wonderful advice and cheerleading from Twistedmind..
> 
> I hope you enjoy this ride.

Peter took a measured sip of his single malt. He sat at the bar with his back to the room, one foot on the rail and the other resting on the rung of the wooden stool. Most of his nights were spent at Falcon’s. The low-key bar nestled at the edge of the town provided him with all he needed: a surprisingly good Top Shelf of his favorite booze—all with that little added special something to help a lonely Werewolf get a nice buzz—food that was good, and most importantly, no dancing or other hook-ups. Just a quiet place to drink, friendly to its human and non-human clientele, but not too friendly. 

He was done with that shit. 

Resting his elbows on the bar, he cradled his half-empty tumbler in his hands. _It’s not half empty, its half full._ God; he despised that cliché. Life had a nasty habit of kicking you in the balls and then laughing once you were down. Peter wasn’t the kind to wallow in self-pity, he had much to be grateful for and life was still of little surprises, but it did not diminish his own personal grief. 

“Um. Excuse me, bartender?” 

Peter glanced sideways at the young man leaning against the bar a few seats down. The young man’s face held the edges of masculinity. He wasn’t as young as he looked, but lacked confidence—the boy’s scent was unsettled and the slight quaver in his voice belied his nervousness. 

“You’ll have to speak up. Donovan’s busy trying to chat up the bear at the end of the bar,” Peter offered. “Hey Donovan, you got a customer,” he yelled, to get the barman’s attention. Donovan looked over and nodded, then turned back to the man whose attention he was engrossed in. “Don’t worry kid, he’ll remember he’s at work in a minute.” 

The young man nodded quickly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the red hoodie he wore. “Thanks. I’m in no hurry.” 

Peter gave the kid a friendly smile then went back to studying his drink. His goal was not to get shit faced—or really even buzzed—just to get away from that quiet house and its memories. The less he dwelt on the past, the better his chances of keeping his sanity. 

Donovan wandered over. “Before I serve you, I need to see some ID.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” The kid dug out an old, ratty-looking wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. Peter noticed that the jeans and hoodie both looked like they had seen better days. They weren’t dirty, but they looked worn and old, and the thin fabric of the hoodie was not likely to keep the boy warm in the chill of a Montana night. 

_Maybe he left his jacket on a chair or in his car,_ Peter mused to himself. 

Peter tore his gaze away and sipped his drink. What did it matter? It wasn’t his problem or his responsibility to worry about this stranger standing next to him, buying a drink while radiating desperation. Peter purposely tuned out the discussion regarding what beer the young man wanted and whether he’d prefer bottle or tap. 

Nope, not his problem. 

After a while, the young man took his drink and walked away from the bar, and Peter rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefingers. Not looking. 

The boy’s scent had stunk of old fear and desperation, but— _No, the boy is not your problem_ , Peter reminded himself. 

Yeah, okay, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the muscled biceps and broad shoulders and strong jawline, and the old hoodie did nothing to hide the muscles in that chest. It wasn’t Peter’s fault the material was thin and the hoodie too small, okay? 

Peter pondered whether he should call Chris and see if he and Derek wanted to go hiking this weekend. Getting out into the woods could be just what he needed. His thoughts were interrupted by a smarmy-sounding voice behind him. 

“Come on, pup. We can show you how it’s done. We’ll give you a lesson you won’t ever forget.” 

Peter looked over his shoulder. The boy sat at a table a few back from the bar, holding his bottle in front of him and staring up at the two men before him. The kid licked his lips nervously “No thanks ...I just came in here for a drink.” 

“Yeah, pup. Like my friend said. We’ll break that ass in for you.” 

“L-look, I’ll just leave, okay? I’m flattered, but I didn’t come in here for anything like that.” 

Peter looked over to Donovan, trying to get the bartender’s attention - the boy needed help before this situation got nasty. Peter felt compelled to do something - there was an aura about the young man, something screaming that he needed a protector. Peter ground his teeth, fighting with his wolf. The kid was an innocent - not weak, necessarily, just not confident, but if Peter didn’t step in this could all turn ugly. Those two assholes weren’t going to take no for an answer, and Peter needed to intervene. Men like that had no place in Falcons, or the town of Winterhaven. 

The sound of a chair scraping along the floor could be heard. “Perfect. We’ll be glad to escort you out,” one of the thugs leered. 

“No! Let me go!” 

Oh, that was _it._ Peter growled low in his throat, and the next second he was up off his stool, zeroing in on the Were who had hold of the young guy’s arm. 

In two strides Peter was in front of the man, hand up and holding the goon’s throat, eyes shifting to red. 

“What the fuck man? Let me go!” The burly werewolf growled 

“Don’t like being manhandled, do you?” Peter growled back. “The kid told you to let him go, so let him the fuck go!” 

The shorter human came up to them. “Jesus, Dale, let the kid go. You know who that is? It’s _Peter fucking Hale.”_

The burly wolf screwed his nose up. “Don’t give a fuck who he is, but if he wants the scrawny jailbait he can have him, kid’s probably more trouble than he’s worth.” He shoved the kid away and Peter released him in turn, quickly moving to stand next to the boy. 

“You OK, kid?” Peter regarded the young man who kept fidgeting, fingers pulling on the ties of his hoodie, foot moving restlessly, “Come on, let’s get a seat.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother. I should head home.” the young man toyed with the hem of his sweatshirt nervously. The kid was twitchy and scared and Peter wanted to wrap him up in a hug, but he didn’t want to touch him, not after the experience he’d just had. The kid blinked several times before he repeated, “I’m sorry I caused such a bother. Thank you for helping me.” 

“You’re welcome, and you didn’t cause the problem, kid, those assholes did.” Peter inclined his head to where the two goons were leaving and shot a glance to Donovan, who nodded towards the two Weres standing by the door. 

“You’re just being polite, and Stiles is my name.” the kid – no, Stiles - extended a hand and Peter shook it. He closed his hand around Stiles’s, the close contact meaning he could smell the boy’s natural scent, an alluring mix of vanilla and coffee. 

“I’m Peter. Peter Hale.” Peter gave his most disarming smile, hoping to set Stiles at ease. 

“I should probably get going. I’ve caused enough trouble for tonight.” Stiles dropped Peter's hand and went back to tugging at his sweatshirt. 

“Listen Stiles, come sit down for a few minutes and finish your drink. I’m not comfortable with you walking out there after the scare you had.” Peter didn’t mention that he also didn’t want Stiles to walk out and see the two goons getting their asses kicked. He’d been through enough tonight. 

Stiles tilted his head, warm, honey eyes assessing Peter before he shrugged. “Okay, you’re probably right. I just don’t want to be a bother.” 

This kid had a cute way of using almost old-fashioned phrases. “No bother, I promise.” 

Peter led them over to a clear table, making sure to get Stiles seated before he went over to retrieve his drink. Returning, he sat down across from the young man, studying him. Short dark brown hair that seemed to be cut rather haphazardly made the young man look younger than he probably was. Long, tapering fingers held the half-drunk beer bottle and Peter could see the nails had been bitten raw, a nervous habit for certain. 

“So, Stiles, how about you tell me how old you really are? That I.D was fake, I’d bet my fangs on it,” 

Stiles looked up and his rather lovely eyes widened just a fraction. “How do you know that?” 

Peter smiled and tapped the side of his nose, “Super sniffer”, He had to hold back a smirk when the boy’s eyes widened comically. They were a warm honey color, eyes that Peter longed to see smiling. Peter watched the boy’s throat when he swallowed nervously, it was a pretty throat, pale and slim, with just a scattering of dark moles and he got distracted for a moment before he caught himself staring.Shaking himself, he looked up at Stiles. 

The blush on Stiles' cheeks grew and his eyes darted towards the bar where Donovan was serving. “Don’t worry about him, but I’d like a truthful answer. please.” 

Stiles dropped his eyes, fingers tearing at the beer label nervously. “I’m nineteen, please don’t tell. I’ll leave and not come back, I promise.” 

“Calm down, Stiles. Now tell me, did you know what sort of bar this was when you came in?” Peter watched the blush come back and Stiles nervously lifted a thumb to his mouth to bite at his nail. Peter resisted the urge to scold him. 

_Not your boy, Peter,_ he reminded himself. 

Stiles ducked his head in a nod, cheeks flaming. “Yes, sir.” 

“And you know its patrons are not always human?” 

Again, another quick nod, followed by a hushed, “They always said I was going to burn for my sins anyway, so I wanted to...you know, experience those before they find me again.” 

That pulled Peter up short. “Stiles, why do you say that?” 

Stiles seemed to collapse against the seat, and he bit more aggressively at his poor abused thumb. Without thought, Peter reached across and gently pried the offending digit away from Stiles's mouth. 

“Answer the question, Stiles. If you are in danger, I want to help you.” _Oh great, Peter, you sure managed to remain detached and_ _aloof -_ _for all of five minutes,_ his internal voice mocked. 

Peter told his internal voice to shut the hell up. 

“Father Silver is going to find me eventually, and they’ll drag me back to camp. I’ll probably end up like the others.” Stiles sunk down lower in his seat, the rank odor of fear and misery emanating from him. 

Peter was suddenly, irrationally, terrified for Stiles. His gut clenched when he thought what the camp might be, but he needed to know what he was dealing with before he tried to formulate a plan. 

Stiles licked his lips and took another sip. The face he pulled made Peter think this was his first beer, and by the way his nose wrinkled he was not a fan. 

“Stiles, I know you don’t know me, but I want you to keep you safe. Are you at risk? Who is this Father Silver? What do you mean end up like the others?” Peter risked reaching over to give the boy’s hand a quick squeeze. 

Stiles looked around the bar nervously, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Peter could sense Stiles fighting with the urge to bolt, but then his body seemed to relax a little. “I don’t know how much I can tell you, it...it was bad.” Stiles took a deep breath.”My parents were killed in a home invasion when I was thirteen. I had no living family. The State was going to put me in some care home, but then this man showed up and said he was my pop’s half-brother, and he was going to take me somewhere safe.” Stiles shook his head and gave a small sad smile, “I was just a kid, and I believed him.” 

“The safe place was the Church of Eternal Flames farm in Utah. Turned out Joshua wasn’t my long-lost uncle, but one of the bastards that killed my parents,” Stiles spat out. 

Peter’s heart was already breaking for this lost boy, and he feared what would come next in the story. “The Church had targeted my family because they were not human. My mom was Fae - she’d given up her life with the court to be with my pops, they were so in love.” Stiles’s eyes filled with unshed tears and he rubbed at them with the heel of his hands. “My dad was a cop, and he worked at bringing down the Anti Supernatural groups. He was also a shifter.” 

_Huh. The boy smelled_ _human,_ Peter mused. 

Stiles gave a smile, almost as if he knew what Peter was thinking. “Mom said I may never be a shifter or have magic, but that was OK, I was perfect just as I was.” Stiles gave a small shrug. “But the church said I was twice-damned because of my parents, and they were going to cleanse my soul of evil. It only got worse when I realized I was gay - the church saw that as almost as evil as being a shifter, but father Silver said he would bring me to the light.” Stiles wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, unshed tears still clinging to his lashes. 

Peter got up and moved his chair so he was closer to the boy but still not touching - he wasn’t sure if the young man would welcome contact, but he wanted to reassure Stiles with his proximity. “So, you ran away,” he prompted: 

“Yeah. Liam and Isaac were both like me, but they were trusted enough to go to town for errands and get supplies for the farm. They helped me get out, knew that Father Silver was finally going to send me to the hole again and this time I wasn’t going to come back.” Stiles shivered and ducked his head down lower. 

“Okay Stiles, you don’t have to tell me anymore.” Peter could sense the boy was close to his limit, and Peter was wise enough not to push it. 

Blinking away tears, Stiles gave Peter a sad smile. “I got on a bus and left, only stopping when I ran out of money, and that was here.” 

“How have you been getting by, Stiles? Do you have someplace to stay?” Peter could no longer convince himself he wasn’t invested in this boy and his story. 

“Um, I’m helping Ms. March at her book store a couple of days a week, and I’m staying at the guest house over on Birch St.” Peter knew the bookstore. Liz March was the embodiment of a sweet mothering woman who no doubt had seen that this young man was in need, but the guest house was another story. 

He knew the place, and knew that five out of seven nights a week the cops were called, and that with what went on behind some of those doors, it wasn’t the kind of place Stiles should be. 

“Ms March is wonderful, and I’m sure she enjoys your help. She has vast knowledge of magic and the supernatural world. But the guesthouse, you know that’s not a safe place, right?” 

Stiles shrugged “I hear what goes on there, but I can’t afford to live anywhere else. A lot of places want ID and social security numbers, and I don’t have those.” 

Without thinking about it too closely, Peter plunged ahead. “Stiles, you need someone to help you, someone in your corner, and I cannot in good conscience see you go back to that guesthouse.” 

Stiles looked up at Peter, confused but also weighed down with defeat. “I know it’s a bad place, I’ve had men offer me money for...stuff,” Stiles blushed deep red, “and there’s always someone doing drugs or fights going on. But what can I do?” 

Peter only had to think about it for a second - his house was far too empty, and Stiles needed help. “Stiles, I have plenty of room at my house. It’s not far from town, plus I have friends who may be able to help you.” Peter did not know why he had this strong urge to help Stiles, he just knew he had to. For the first time in years, he felt the yearning to care for someone else. 

Stiles cocked his head and gave Peter a confused look. “Why would you do this, help out someone you’ve only just met?” 

“To be honest, I’m not sure myself. But I know I wouldn’t sleep tonight knowing you were stuck at that house, and I’m in a position to help you. Would you consider it?” 

Peter watched Stiles fidget with the bottle label again, then he looked up, expression serious. "You're being so kind. I don’t know if I could ever pay you back, but if I stayed, I wouldn’t be a freeloader, I’d pay my way.” 

“I don’t need you to pay me anything, Stiles. I would rather you put your earnings to use in other ways, but we can discuss this tomorrow.” Peter could see the dark circles around Stiles’s eyes, and the boy stunk of exhaustion, both physical and mental. 

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” Peter asked. 

“Umm, it’s been a while? I mean, I can’t afford much and most of my money goes on paying for my room, and back at the farm you only got fed when you behaved,” Stiles sighed. 

Peter let out a low growl. He would happily rip the throat out of those assholes if he ever got the chance. Stiles let out a gasp. “Your eyes - they went red.” 

Peter saw shock in those wide, doe-like eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you Stiles, but hearing how you were treated? Well, my wolf doesn’t like that at all.” Peter titled his head to look at the young man “You know about Werewolves, so you know what red eyes signify?” 

Stiles nodded, his eyes still a little wide. “Yeah, you’re an Alpha. My dad said it was an Alpha’s job to protect the pack, to make sure they were safe. Father Silver had other ideas, but he was full of shit.” Stiles gasped, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t cuss.” 

“It’s quite alright, Stiles. I happen to think you might be right about Father Silver being full of shit. But your Dad was right, an Alpha’s job is to protect and nurture his pack, and even, on occasion, those not from the pack,” Peter answered. 

“Like me?” Stiles whispered, his scent softly hopeful - that was the best way Peter could describe the sweet honey smell that the boy exuded. 

“Yes, Stiles, like you. I know it’s a lot to ask for you to trust me, after all you’ve been through, but I promise I have only your best interests at heart.” Peter sat back and hoped the boy would choose to come with him, all the while asking himself what the hell he was doing. He had no idea, but he knew it felt right. 

“Okay Mr. Hale, I could really use your help.” Such a polite young man, but _Mr. Hale_ wouldn’t do at all - no one called Peter that except assholes in suits. 

Peter let out a breath. “Thank you, for trusting me, Stiles, but for the record It’s Peter, or _Oh Brave and Sexy Alpha,_ if you’re looking to earn points. And in future I should remind you it's not always safe to accept offers to go home with strange men.” Peter grinned as the boy blushed and his eyes went wide. 

“You must think I’m a completely naive fool,” Stiles sighed, looking embarrassed. 

“No Stiles, just not wise in the ways of the world.” Peter answered. “It’s not your fault you’ve been sheltered.” 

Stiles nodded and ducked his head, still looking a little embarrassed. 

“What do you say we get out of here and find you some food? You honestly look like you could do with a good meal and a decent sleep.” Peter stood up and waited for Stiles to follow suit. Stiles stood and followed Peter out to his car. “Did you want to stop at the guest house and pick up your things?” 

Stiles shrugged. “I should get my other change of clothes. I managed to pick up some jeans and a couple of tees from the thrift shop with my first paycheck, but that’s all, really.” 

Stiles let out a bone-cracking yawn as he leant against the side of Peter’s truck, and Peter could see the boy was fading, in dire need of sleep and food. 

“What do you say we pick them up in the morning? Getting you fed and to bed is more important, I think.” Peter opened the door to let Stiles climb into the cab, fighting the urge to do the seat belt up for him. Getting into the truck Peter put the heat up, adjusting the airflow so it blew on Stiles. 

Reaching over into the back Peter snagged his wool-lined jacket and draped it over Stiles, “I don’t need it - the joys of running hot -but let’s make sure you don’t catch a chill.” 

Stiles let out a soft giggle. “I never would have picked you for a mamma bear.” 

Peter liked that there was a little bit of cheek in the boy, that the monsters had not taken that from him. No matter what he’d initially told himself about not getting attached, Peter was under no illusions - in a matter of mere hours, Stiles had managed to break a hole in the wall that Peter had so carefully built around himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes home with Peter, they learn a little about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wow guys, your response to this has just made my weekend thank you for all the love and positive feedback, And because Gary my giant asshole of a cat let me sleep in till 7am I am going to treat everyone to the second chapter early :)

Going to the bar had been a stupid idea, but Liz had said Stiles should get out and meet people, and he’d overheard a few customers talking about the bar at the edge of town. It was supposedly a quiet place frequented by humans and supes, but also friendly to gay clientele. 

Stiles hadn’t gone there for a hookup  ( he knew that happened but there was no way he was ready for that sort of thing), he just wanted a taste of life outside Father Silver’s domain.

The bar had seemed ok when he first walked in, but he wondered again at his choice of clothing. His red hoodie was the warmest thing he owned until he got a chance to get back to the thrift store, and at least it and the jeans he had on were clean.

Pushing open the door, Stiles had been relieved to see that the bar was not overly crowded, a couple of men over by the pool table and a few seated around the tables. He glanced at the bar, only two guys were there and an older looking guy with a full beard who was built like a bear was leaning across the bar chatting to the bartender, who seemed to be enjoying whatever was said.

He’d glanced at the empty spot at the bar and noticed the other patron. He could only see the man’s back but whoever he was, he filled out that shirt well. Stiles had had a moment of panic, half-expecting Father Silver to appear and condemn him for sinful and depraved thoughts, but closing his eyes he’d counted to ten, reminding himself again he had gotten away, and was hundreds of miles from that place and those people.

Now here he was, two hours later, being bundled up in a warm coat, snuggled in the car of an Alpha werewolf who wanted to help him. Wow. His life had fast taken a turn for the strange, but hopefully also the better.

There was something about the handsome Alpha that made Stiles want to trust him. Maybe he was naive and innocent, but his asshole radar was pretty fine-tuned these days, and he trusted those instincts.

When Peter had offered Stiles his spare room, he’d been nervous, wondering if the man would expect something in return for his act of charity, but those fears quickly evaporated the more they talked. Besides, Stiles told himself, Peter was hot. It’s not like he would need to pick up some skinny loser kid.

He snuggled under the jacket, taking soft breaths and soaking in the man’s smell.

He hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but a gentle shake to his shoulder and Peter’s voice brought him awake. 

Stiles yawned and pulled the jacket down, blinking. They had pulled up to a large two-story log house - cabin was too small a word for such a house. Pale fairy lights lit the path to the front door, and in the  darkness he could see a canopy of trees that ran along the side of the house.

Peter must have seen Stiles looking. “The woods run along Flathead  lake, this house sits on the edge.” 

Stiles stared at the wooden structure in awe. “Wow, is this a Pack house?” His dad had told him when he was small about the grand homes some of the large Werewolf packs had, and he had daydreamed of what it would be like to grow up surrounded by a large rambunctious pack.

Peter’s face softened and his eyes clouded with grief. “That was the plan, but things changed. For a  time my nephew and then his mate shared this place with me, but they have since gotten their own place not far up the lake.”

Peter didn’t say any more, but the sorrow in his expression led Stiles to hazard a guess that he had lost his entire pack except for his nephew. Stiles reached out and touched Peter’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

Peter gave him a sad smile. “It’s ok pup, I haven’t gotten over it, but I have learned to embrace the time I had with them.” Peter looked up at the stars. “One day I’ll tell you about them and what happened, why I think your history and mine may be linked.”

Stiles nodded, not wanting the man to feel pressured to talk. “It’s okay, I get it  \- some things are just too hard to talk about.” Stiles was pretty sure there were a lot of things he wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to talk about, and it made him acutely aware of others not wanting to share painful memories.

Peter got out of the car, moving quickly to help Stiles get out. “But one day, pup, we’ll need to talk, and I promise I’ll be there to help in whatever way I can.”

Stiles looked at the handsome man in front of him and tried to wrap his brain around why he would want to help him, a stranger. “But why?”

Peter smiled brightly. “You know pup, I don’t really know, I just know that something inside of me says I need to, and I’m going with my gut.” Peter patted his flat stomach, earning a snort from Stiles.

Stiles followed Peter along the path to the house.  He could make out the soft sounds of water in the background- it was relaxing. Maybe in the morning Peter would let him go see it.

Peter led them through the large oak front door into the great room, Stiles supposed you would call it. At the rear of the room wide sliding doors opened out onto a wooden balcony in the same pale timber finish as the logs that constructed the house. On the far wall there was an imposing stone fireplace, surrounded by comfortable sofas and hand spun rugs covering the floor. The room looked warm and inviting and Stiles wanted to sink down into one of the soft looking lounges but Peter led him through to an impressive open plan kitchen.

“Take a seat at the counter, Stiles. I’m going to try and rustle us up some food.” 

Stiles took a seat at the counter and watched as Peter grumbled and muttered to  himself while looking through the fridge and pantry, finally coming back to the counter with bread, sliced ham and gruyere cheese. The strong smell of the cheese caused Stiles to sit back.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, pup. Toasted ham and cheese, but done right.” Peter dug under the counter and pulled out what Stiles could only make out to be some sort of sandwich press.

“I take it they didn’t have panini presses at the farm?” Peter asked while he buttered the slabs of bread.

“Uh no, we kind of got fed what was left after the elders and congregation ate.” Stiles offered, still watching as Peter sliced ham and added chunks of the  strong smelling cheese to the stack.

Peter gave him an appraising look, and Stiles wanted to squirm under the man’s attentive gaze. “You won’t be eating scraps  here, I can promise you that.” 

The warmth of Peter’s words made Stiles feel a fluttering in his stomach. It had been years since anyone had shown this kind of care or concern for  Stiles's wellbeing. Without asking his permission, tears started to roll down his cheeks and Stiles hastily wiped them away.  Life at the farm had taught him crying was weakness, and weakness was dangerous.

He felt movement alongside and saw Peter standing close. “May I hold you, Stiles?”

Stiles shook with more unshed tears and nodded, letting himself be enfolded into the warm hug. The press of Peter’s arms made him feel safer than he ever had, except for those long-past hugs from his parents. He pressed his face against Peter’s broad chest and settled in, drawing all the warmth and care he could from the embrace.

“Stiles, I can’t even imagine what you have been through, but I hope that this can be a new start, somewhere safe for you.”

Peter eventually had to let go and Stiles tried not to mourn the loss of the comforting touch. Peter moved back to the counter and finished making their sandwiches, and while they cooked in the press, he fiddled with two mugs and a bag of something.

Stiles’ eyes went wide when a mug was sat in front of him. The sweet aroma of hot chocolate drifted up, and the mug had marshmallows floating in it.

He grabbed at it with both hands, inhaling deeply, then took a slow drink. God he’d forgotten how good this tasted. His tongue darted out to lick at the chocolate milk around his lips and he caught Peter watching him, a strangely fond smile on his face.

“Hot chocolate is one of life’s great joys, I think.” Peter took a sip from his as he checked on the toasted sandwiches and then slid them onto plates.

They ate in companionable silence, Stiles finding that while the cheese may have smelled a little yuck, Peter was right. He had never had a ham and cheese like it. Picking at the crumbs on his plate with his finger, he started to flag, fighting a losing battle keep his eyes open.

Peter came around the counter. “Come on, let's get you upstairs and to bed.”

Peter led Stiles up a large staircase to a mezzanine that looked over the great room. Thick Persian rugs covered the wooden floor. They looked super soft, and Stiles wondered how fleecy they would feel under bare feet.

Peter led him to a room at the end of the hall, a large space filled with pale pine colored furniture and a large bed covered in an incredibly soft looking quilt. Peter went over to the bedside and turned on one of the pretty tiffany lamps which bathed the room in a soft golden light. 

“Wait here a minute, I’ll grab you something more comfortable to sleep in.” Peter disappeared down the hall.

Stiles walked over to one of the big windows. The lake glimmered in the moonlight, and he wondered idly if the lake would be cold to swim in come summer, and if Peter had a boat or fished.

“I think these should do for now. They may be a little loose on you, but they will make do until we have a chance to get you some new ones.” Peter held a bundle of clothes and fresh towels. A new unopened tooth brush and a bottle of body wash sat on top of the pile.

Again, Stiles was struck by Peter’s generosity. The simple acts of kindness struck at  Stiles’s very core. “Thank you, I – um, I mean for everything, Peter.”

Peter ducked his head, smiling. “You’re more than welcome. I’ll let you get some rest. If you need me, I’m just down the hall. Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”

Stiles looked at the bed longingly, but the thought of having a hot shower won. The guest house bathroom was terrible, there was never hot water and the door could not be locked without putting a chair under the handle. He had tried to time  his showers for while most of the other residents were out, but one unpleasant encounter with Lex the house manager had led Stiles to taking to washing himself quickly at the sink.

The en-suite was lined with the same soft timber paneling, a large tub stood under the window and a large frosted glass shower stood at the other end. Stripping down, Stiles was unsure what to do with his dirty clothes until he saw a hamper by the door. When he stepped into the shower the water pressure and warmth was heavenly, and Stiles allowed himself to relax under the spray.

Once he’d showered, showered Stiles slipped on the soft sweatpants and tee shirt both still carrying a hint of Peter’s aftershave. Stiles couldn’t help but breathe deeply, enjoying the distinctly masculine smell, a smell that already  signified safety to Stiles.

Pulling back the bedcovers he climbed in, moaning a little at how comfortable the mattress was. He left the lamp on, not sure if tonight would bring its usual nightmares, and knowing that waking in a dark room would disorienting and scary. 

He rolled so he was facing the door, and let his eyes slip closed.

0o0

The slow regular breaths coming from the guest room signified that Stiles had fallen asleep. Peter took it as a good sign that he felt safe enough to fall asleep. He took his glass of scotch and his phone and headed out onto the balcony that sat in front of the master bedroom. Peter didn’t know the full extent of what Stiles had suffered at the hands of the so-called church, but he was determined to find out, and he knew just the man to help him.

Chris answered the phone by the third ring, a little out of breath. “Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, Christopher,” Peter chuckled. 

“Nope, we just got back from a run. Derek's been out of sorts with his first day coming up and I thought dragging him out for a night run might burn off some energy,” Chris replied. 

“Did it work?” Peter asked, already guessing the answer.

“ Ehhh . You know your nephew; I may have to resort to some more vigorous methods,” Chris laughed lowly. Peter smirked when in the background he heard Derek telling Chris off. “ So Peter, what’s the reason for a call this late?”

Peter tipped his glass, watching the ice swim around in the scotch. “Well, I seem to have acquired a foundling, or at least a young man in desperate straits.”

“Hmm, where? At Falcons?” There was no judgment in Chris’s voice, but there was a hint of concern.

“ Yes but it’s not what you’re thinking, he’s not like Theo,” Peter sighed 

“I’m not saying that, Peter. You and I both know that boy was a mess, and there was nothing you did that caused what happened.” Chris spoke in that infuriatingly calm tone of his.

Peter fought back a nasty retort, breathing deeply before he spoke. “I know that Chris, this is not the same. This boy has gotten away from something or someone terrible. Have you heard anything about a place called the Church of Eternal Flame?” 

Chris made a deep growl, almost wolf-like. “Hard core extremists, High security, I mean we’re talking hunter level shit. Why?” Chris asked.

“This boy, Stiles, he’s spent the last six years trapped with them, and he said the leader is a Father Silver.” Peter waited a breath before he continued, “Do you think it could be...”

“Religious fanaticism mixed with xenophobia and homophobic beliefs? Sounds right in his ballpark. We lost track of him after Kate’s trial and execution, but setting up a fanatical organization to further his cause sounds like something he’d do,” Chris growled out.

“That’s what I thought.” Peter gave Chris the information he knew about Stiles and promised to find out more, but told Chris he wouldn’t push for information. “Stiles has been through too much already and I want to help him, but I won’t risk hurting him to find out more. We don’t know what he suffered at that old bastard's hands.” 

“Peter, I wouldn’t expect you to. Remember, I know firsthand what these people are like. I can give you the name of a good therapist though, someone who might be of some use for Stiles, if it would help,” Chris replied.

“I. ..thank you Chris, I’m not sure if Stiles would be receptive to that yet. I only brought him home tonight.” Peter rolled the ice in his drink around, the clink of the ice the only sound other than the small nocturnal animals out in the evening.

“I understand. I’ll email the number to you, and I’ll get onto trying to dig up any info I can on who’s behind this Church. You know if it’s who we suspect I’m going to want to deal with this personally.” The edge of steel in Chris’s voice was unmistakable.

“Both of us Christopher, we owe it to those we lost and those still with us.” Peter thought of Derek, of what his nephew had gone through, but also how proud he was of what Derek had accomplished despite it.

“We can get on this in the morning. I promise Peter, I’ll find out,” Chris said.

Peter sighed and looked out over the lake. “I know. Thank you. Now go wear out that nephew of mine, and tell him he's going to be brilliant - the kids will love him - and if not, he can just scowl and do the eyebrow thing, that will keep the little monsters at bay.”

“They’re four-year old's Peter, not monsters,” Chris chuckled. 

“Says you. Night, Christopher.”

Peter hung up and walked back inside. When he did so he stopped and cocked his head, listening. He could hear muffled whimpers coming from down the hall.

He didn’t want to invade  Stiles’s space, but the sounds were concerning, and another burst of muffled  _ pleases _ and pained cries had Peter walking into the room. The lamp was still on but Stiles was sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning, quilt balled in his hands as he fought with his nightmare.

Pulling a chair over near the bed Peter sat down. Resting a hand gently on  Stiles’s arm he spoke softly, “Stiles, sweetheart, you’re safe, I'm here.” Stiles whimpered at the touch. “Shh, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Peter stroked  Stiles’s hair softly, keeping up the flow of soft words until the boy slowly woke. Brown eyes fluttered open, still sleep-hazed. “It's okay Stiles, you were having a nightmare and I was worried.” 

Stiles, still half asleep rolled onto his side and mumbled, “’m sorry.” 

Peter tutted him softly. “No need to be sorry. I’ll let you go back to sleep. Do you want me to leave the lamp and hallway light on?”

“Please, don’ like  th ’ dark,” was  Stiles’s sleepy reply. 

Peter stepped out of the room quietly, and with one last look at the sleeping boy he walked to his room. Tonight, he knew, sleep would be elusive, his mind already working overtime, calculating how best to help Stiles and how to visit vengeance on those  who had hurt him.

0o0

Stiles woke to sunlight pouring into his room and the raucous sounds of birdsong outside his window. He smiled at the  sound, the birds sounded happy. Getting up he peered out the bedroom window. Below on the deck, Peter stood holding a bag of grain, a swirling mass of colorful birds all vying for his attention. Even sleep rumpled and dressed in sweatpants and a sweater, the man still looked incredible. 

Peter looked up and spotted Stiles at the window and gave a wave. Stiles raised his hand back, feeling shy all of a sudden, and a little embarrassed as he remembered how Peter had had to come in during the night to calm him after his nightmare.

“God, he must think I’m a total loser,” he groaned to himself as he went over and straightened the covers of the bed. Some lessons from the farm never went away - _ make sure the area you sleep in is tidy and made up, or no food or water for the day.  _

He wasn’t worried that Peter would hurt him, it’s just that some things had become ingrained.

Slipping downstairs he followed his nose to the kitchen. The smell of frying bacon made his mouth water and his stomach growl. Peter was standing at the counter by the time he entered the light filled kitchen.

“Breakfast will be ready  soon, I just need to make the toast. Scrambled eggs fine with you? Do you  eat bacon, Stiles?” Peter was busy pouring the eggs into the fry pan. 

“Um, yeah. I could, -do you want me to make the toast?” Stiles was not sure if Peter would welcome his help, but it felt wrong just standing there while Peter did all the work.

Peter gave him a warm smile and pointed towards the toaster on the counter. “Bread’s over in the bread bin.” Stiles got out the bread and set to toasting four slices for them, and when they were  done he buttered them and placed them on the plates Peter had set out. “You take those over to the table and I’ll grab us coffee,” Peter directed.

Stiles carried the plates over to the small nook situated by one of the large bay  doors. The view over the lake was pretty and he could imagine how nice it would be to sit here each morning eating breakfast. He let out a wistful sigh. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was sure Peter was not going to want him hanging around for too long. The man had already been more than generous, but Stiles didn’t plan on being a freeloader.

“What’s that long face for?” Peter broke Stiles out of his melancholy thoughts.

Stiles looked at his plate, not sure what to say, but decided to tell the truth - the man could tell if was lying, after all. “Just wondering what is going to happen, where I’ll go from here.”

“What do you mean, Stiles?” Peter took a bite of his bacon, making happy sounds as he did so.

Stiles moved his fork around the plate, trying to think of how to answer, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I’m finally away from the church, but I feel like somehow they still have a hold of me.” Stiles shrugged, not sure if he could put into words the constant fear he had lived under since he had escaped the farm, or how he finally felt safe for the first time in years when he stepped into this house, even though Peter was a stranger and it made no sense at all.

“What do you want to do, Stiles? The world is out there for the taking,” Peter set his fork down and picked up his coffee mug, smiling over the lip of the cup. “You don’t have to rush to make any decisions. I’m not sure if I made myself clear, but you are welcome here for as long as you want or need.” 

Stiles looked over at Peter and a surge of profound gratitude filled him for this remarkable stranger, his Knight in denim armor. “I don’t want to be a burden, or not to pay my way. My Pops brought me up better than that.” 

“No doubt he did, and you can help out around the place when you’re not working at the bookstore. If you do want to go back to study though, we can find courses you would like. Believe me, I won’t see you as freeloading.”

Peter gave Stiles a strange look, then took a sip of his coffee, “Stiles I know we don’t know each other well yet but I hope, given time, that will change. I honestly want to help you, and I hope you can feel safe and happy here. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn,” Peter looked up from his mug, eyes sad, “but I think that it would be a good idea to find someone to speak to about what you went through with the Church.” 

Stiles honestly didn’t know how he felt about that. He knew that some of his past behaviors and certain triggers all stemmed from what he had endured, but who could he trust to talk to about it? He gave a noncommittal shrug - not shutting down the idea, but uncomfortable with the thought of talking to a stranger.

“I’m not saying now, Stiles. I just feel it would be beneficial.” Peter put his mug down and reached over to gently tap Stiles forehead. “I know how messed up in here can get.” Peter gazed over at the  lake, expression distant. “I lost my entire family to a fire, a fire set by extremists. Derek and I only survived because Chris arrived and risked his life to save us.”

Stiles knew what that kind of loss was like, but he could only imagine how much more devastating it would have been to feel those pack bonds destroyed, and his heart ached for Peter. Acting on autopilot, Stiles stood and walked around to where Peter sat, bending down and wrapping his arms around him, hugging Peter from behind.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m OK,” Peter said, “but thank you. I just wanted you to know that I understand some of the pain you’re in.” Stiles hugged Peter tighter, not sure what to say. He pulled back when Peter sat up. “Go on, go eat your breakfast, Stiles. I promise I’m fine.” Peter gave Stiles a warm smile, but Stiles could still see the lingering pain behind those blue eyes. He supposed that sort of grief never really left.

“ Who - who would I even talk to about this stuff?” he asked. “I don’t know anybody in town, and to be honest I would have a hard time trusting someone.” Stiles thought he would go for the direct approach. Yeah, a therapist or shrink might be a good idea but trusting a stranger with that sort of stuff? He didn’t know if he was capable. 

Peter reached out and gave  Stiles’s hand a squeeze. “I understand. We won’t rush into this. I’ll speak to a few people I trust, see who they recommend.” Peter tipped his head, giving Stiles a shrewd look. “This is not a conditional thing Stiles. It’s only a suggestion, one I hope you’ll at least think about. If you decide to go ahead, I’m here to help you every step of the way.” 

Gah!! How was this guy so perfect? It was, Stiles  thought, like someone had gone through his brain and picked out all the perfect bits of his ideal man, and voila - Peter Hale. Not that he would ever say such a thing to Peter, god no. Peter deserved someone perfect, someone with less baggage and hang-ups that Stiles. But still, it was nice to think that he had found someone he could actually call a friend, someone on his side. 

Once he’d thought he had that, but it was a lie, a manipulation by Father Silver to root out all of  Stiles’s sinful desires, to catch him out, only Stiles didn’t know that at the time. He had really felt Scott was his friend, his brother trapped in the same shitty situation as him. But Scott had believed Father Silver could cure him, take the wolf from him. 

“Stiles are you OK?” Stiles looked up from the plate to find Peters watching him, radiating concern.

Stiles shrugged. “I was just thinking. It's nice, you know. To...to have a friend.” Stiles blushed and started shoveling food into his mouth.

“I’m glad too Stiles. I want to be your friend, to earn your trust.” 

“I want that too ,” Stiles whispered into his coffee mug.

They ate in comfortable silence, Stiles mulling over this new turn his life had taken. He had spent so long under the thumb of Father Silver that now he finally had a chance to take control of his own life, the prospect frightened him. 

For years he had been told he was a creature of sin, cursed by birth and by his sexuality. Stiles had never believed it, his parents had done too good a job at bringing him up with an open mind and heart for the church to take it away completely, but the years of abuse had taken their toll, shaken his confidence.

Stiles put his fork down, finished eating. He couldn’t remember the last time his stomach had felt quite so full. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Of course. Anything I can answer, I will. I’m a fairly open book.” Peter put his own food aside.

“Did your parents know you were gay?” Stiles asked bluntly.

Peter smiled, and didn’t seem the least bit upset by the question, "Yes, they did. I mean for  shifters, sexuality has never really been much of an issue. My parents never judged me for who I was attracted to or loved ,” Peter answered.

Stiles sat back in the cane chair, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t think mom and dad would have cared. I think they would’ve just wanted me to be happy,” Stiles paused to blink back a few tears at the thought of his parents, “but the church said it was a mortal sin, that it was a perversion of my body and soul, a depravity. They said I’d never find love, only lust and abuse.” 

Peter leaned  forward, his hands clasped together facing Stiles, the very picture of serious thought. “Stiles, you know that’s not true, right?” 

Stiles nodded. “I guess I do. But I hate how they made me doubt that, made me feel like I was unworthy of love or kindness.” 

Peter reached over and gently took one of  Stiles’s hands in his own. Stiles soaked up the feel of Peters hands on  his , they were soft and warm and he felt safe in his grasp. “You are worthy of love and kindness, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.” 

Stiles nodded, wanting desperately to believe that Peter was right, and this could be a new start for him. 

He hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for enjoying my Stuffs


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to town,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early Friday morning here and the start of my work week, So I thought I would start the week off right with a new chapter. I hope you enjoy my new OC as much as I enjoyed writing her.

“Stiles, are you ready?” Peter called up towards the second story  landing, and laughed when he heard a muffled thump.

“Nearly. Just trying to get these jeans on. Jesus, whoever wore these must have been a stick figure.” Stiles’s muffled voice grouched out.

Peter had found a pile of Derek’s old clothes, things he had left behind when he had finally moved in with Chris, and a few things he had brought for Theo but had never given him. A pang of guilt and sadness at that made Peter sigh. Theo had been so lost, so angry, on a downward self-destructive spiral. Peter had tried - they all had - but in the end it wasn’t enough.

He dragged his thoughts away from the past and looked up to see Stiles coming downstairs, pulling on the old bomber jacket that Peter had given him. Stiles could say what he liked about how tight those jeans were, but they looked good on him, and the soft, worn Henley was a little on the large side, but that too looked good, the dip in the front showing of a tantalizing glimpse of pale throat and chest.

Stiles stood on the bottom step, looking unsure. “So, where are we going?” 

Peter grabbed his fleece lined denim jacket off the back of the sofa and walked towards Stiles. “We’re going shopping.”

Stiles arched a brow in confusion “We are?”

“Yes, and we’re going to stop by the guest house and get the rest of your stuff,” Peter said, before realizing he might be taking something of a dominant role here, used to leading and being in control where partners and family were concerned. “I might come across as bossy, but it’s how I tend to do things.” Peter dipped his head in apology.

Stiles smiled and flushed a little. “No, I mean, I actually like it - I sometimes have a hard time focusing on things. Mom and Dad had me tested a few months before everything happened, they thought I had ADHD, and after all the shit at the Church, sometimes my head gets too noisy” Stiles dropped his head and Peter saw his hands fiddle with the buttons on the jacket.

Walking up closer, Peter took a chance and used a finger to tilt the boy’s face up so he could look him in the eye. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of Stiles, and handing over a little responsibility to me isn’t an issue, as long as you’re okay with it.” 

Stiles's eyes narrowed as he thought, and Peter couldn’t help but notice how pretty those eyes were up close.  _ Rein it in, Peter, he’s not your boy  _ he reminded himself.  _ But he  _ could  _ be, _ a smaller, traitorous voice whispered.

Unaware of the internal argument Peter was having, Stiles tilted his head and bit his bottom lip nervously. “What does it say about me that I want you to? I’m scared of everything. The church had me under lock and key for the last six  years, and everything’s just...” Stiles’s face dropped as he spoke, and Peter made a soft, reassuring sound as he gave into the need to comfort him, and pulled Stiles close.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, sweet boy, and if it makes you comfortable, I have no problem taking the lead. I’m a caretaker by nature. Part of it is being an Alpha, but part of it is just how I am,” Peter said simply.

“I. ..yeah . I think if you take charge, it would help,” Stiles said quietly.

Peter nodded to himself. He could do that. If it helped Stiles, he would take the lead on things – but only for now.  _ Stiles isn't your boy, and you're not his daddy, _ he reminded himself sternly.

“Okay so the plan is we go and get your belongings, then pick up a few new things for you, then stop by the bookstore to let Liz March know you’ve moved.” He watched as Stiles nodded.

Stiles sat quietly in the truck for the first few minutes, watching the view out the window, “Wow, I must have been tired on the drive here. I didn’t realize how far out of town were.”

“It's not really that far, half an hour, give or take, but that does remind me of something.” Peter didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he could feel  Stiles’s attention had shifted from the view out the window and onto him.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked. 

“I have an old jeep out in the back shed. It’s not much to look, at but he still goes. You can use it to get back and forth to town and work if  yo’d like.” Peter hadn’t really thought through the logistics when he brought Stiles out to the house – really, he hadn’t thought of anything apart from getting the boy somewhere safe – but now this seemed like the logical solution. The jeep just sat gathering rust, when it could be useful for Stiles. Peter didn’t want to make the boy feel trapped or overly reliant on Peter, and while Peter would have no hesitation taking Stiles  anywhere he wanted to go, he didn’t want to take the boy’s new found independence from him. Stiles had spent l ong enough trapped. Peter didn’t want to do the same, even inadvertently.

Stiles bit his bottom lip, and again Peter fought the urge to remove that plump lip from between his teeth, “What’s wrong?”

“Father Sliver wouldn’t let us learn to drive,” Stiles slumped into the seat.

“Well, that’s not an issue. Licensing is still done by the sheriff’s office here, and I know Officer Parish would have no problem helping out.” Peter hated to see Stiles looking so defeated.

“But I don’t have any ID. I ran with what I was wearing and money for a bus ticket, that was it.” Stiles huffed out, and sank deeper into his seat.

“Not an insurmountable problem, Stiles. I can have my lawyers organize ID and  any necessary paperwork you need.” Peter looked over, pleased to see Stiles perking up a bit, then his brows furrowed.

“If your lawyers start sniffing around won’t that alert Father Silver to where I am? I can’t go back Peter, if he finds out where I am, he’ll come for me,” Stiles started to breath faster and pulled at his belt. The sour smell of panic and fear filled the truck cab.

Pulling the truck to the side of the road, Peter turned slowly to Stiles and reached out a hand to touch the boy's arm. “Stiles? Breathe with me, okay? Slow, deep breaths. One, two...” 

Once he was sure Stiles was calmer, he spoke softly. “I will never let them hurt you again, Stiles, I promise, and my lawyers are very good. They will not in any way, shape or form let Father Silver know where you are.” Stiles nodded shakily, leaning against Peters hold, his head burrowed awkwardly against Peters chest. “I will never let them hurt you again, sweet boy.” Peter found himself speaking into the soft brown hair of Stile’s head. “You’re safe with me.”

Stiles let out a soft hiccupping breath. “You promise?”

Peter held out his other hand. “Pinky promise.” That earned a snorting, wet snicker from Stiles. “Werewolves take pinky promises very seriously, I’ll have you know.” 

Peter held the boy until Stiles calmed further and the tears dried. “Now for the rest of the day we’re going to have fun, no heavy talk.” Peter gave Stiles a stern look. “But we  _ are  _ going to have to talk about the church at some point, if only for me to have a clearer picture of who these monsters are, and how I can help you.”

“That’s fair. Do you really think you can do something about them?” There was a spark of hope in the boy’s eyes.

“Oh, believe me when I say I want to make sure they never hurt you again.” As Peter  spoke he realized he’d shifted slightly. The boy once again seemed unbothered by Peter’s wolf, and reached out to touch Peter’s face.

How was this boy that he'd only just met dragging all of these protective instincts forth in him? Peter could almost see that little snarky voice in his head rolling its eyes. “ _ You know why.” _

“I believe you.” The hand was quickly withdrawn, but Stiles still had a soft smile on his face.

Peter pulled into town 20 minutes later, and parked the truck in a spot not too far from L-Shaped Space, Liz March’s book store.

“Thought we we’d pop in and see Liz first, let her know you're staying at the house with me.” Peter also wanted to have a quick word with Liz. The woman had a talent for finding things out and Peter wanted her input on how to help Stiles.

“That’s cool, I wanted to know when she wanted me next, and she said she was going to get in some books on herbal lore for me. She knows a bit about my mom’s spark and thinks it would be good if I maybe started to study a little magic….it’s kind of exciting. If I could learn to do stuff like Mom then I wouldn’t be afraid all the time, I don’t think.” Stiles blushed a little. “Sorry, I ramble when I get excited.”

“Oh, never apologize for that, sweetheart.” Shit. That slipped  out - again. “Knowledge is a wonderful thing, and I will most definitely encourage it.” 

Liz March gave Stiles a bright smile and wrapped him in a hug as soon as they walked into the store. “Stiles, what are you doing here? I gave you the day off.” 

Stiles tilted his head in Peters direction. “Alpha Hale is helping me out, Liz.” Stiles blushed a little, and Peter couldn’t help but like the way Stiles looked with that touch of pink to his cheeks. 

“Is he, now?” A dark brow arched and Liz shot Peter a look. Peter had no doubt that she’d do diabolical things to him if he hurt Stiles in any way – the look she’d leveled at him told him that much loud and clear.

“Stiles, go check out back hun. I found some extra books for you to take.” 

Stiles looked between Liz and Peter and snorted. “No hurting the Alpha, Liz. He saved me last night, and he’s helping me.” With that Stiles wandered to the back of the store, not before shooting a concerned look between the two.

Peter smiled reassuringly and made a shooing motion. “Relax. Liz and I are old friends.”

Sunlight glinted off the colorful ties in Liz’s dreadlocks as she shook her head watching Stiles retreat. “That boy is too damn innocent and trusting.”

“But not weak, Liz. He just needs someone to watch out for him,” Peter said softly.

“And that’s what you’re doing, huh? Watching out for him?” Liz crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. Most in town saw Liz March as the mother everyone wanted, the first to offer care and assistance in times of need and strife. She'd been Peter’s rock after the fire, but he also knew that this loving Haitian woman was also one of the most powerful Mambo’s Vodou Priestesses in the States.

“You know what he’s escaped from, why I want to help him.” Peter responded. 

“I do, and I know you’re a good Alpha, Peter, but I also know what that boy smells like, knew the moment he arrived in town. There’s potential there like I have never seen before.” Liz looked at Peter eyes going wide then her rich laughter rang out. “Oh, Peter. You had no idea, did you?” Peter shrugged, not liking being on the back foot.

“I smelled the repressed magic; I’d be a terrible wolf if I hadn’t - but that is not what's important to me,” Peter grumbled defensively.

Liz’s face softened and without warning she wrapped Peter in a hug. “You actually care, don’t you? I never thought you’d let those walls down after Theo. I’m proud of you, Croft.”

Peter smirked. The nickname had stuck from his early teens. His love for finding out things and the trouble he had gotten into had spurred Liz into calling him that, saying he was just as feisty and troublesome as Lara Croft. It had irked him at first, but as he grew  older he loved it. It was something special.

It really shouldn’t make his wolf so happy when Liz called him that, nor should her trust and praise make him feel like a happy kid, but Liz’s approval had that effect.

“I’m just his friend, Liz. It's not - ” Liz hushed him before he could continue. 

“I know what it is and what it’s not. Look after him, he’s going to need your strength. I’ve got a feeling that things are going to get interesting for both of you.”

Peter stepped back and smirked. “Is that the spirits telling you, or you know something I don’t?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.” Liz turned serious then. “He told you about this Father Silver, then?”

“Yes.” Peter let out a low growl, eyes flaring red.

“And it doesn’t take a genius to work out who we both think he might be.” Liz continued not fussed with Peters show of Alpha protectiveness.

“I already have Chris on it, and I’m going to up the security around the pack house. That’s the other reason for my visit. Do you think you could whip up a few things to lay around the  house? ” 

“Gladly. I have a few things that might do the trick. You know once they find Stiles they’re going to come in hard,” Liz warned as she went towards her counter.

“I do, and I want to be ready. I know between Derek, Chris, and myself we have a good chance at keeping Stiles safe,” Peter sighed, praying the worst would not come to pass.

“I don’t want you getting hurt because of me, it’s not fair,” Stiles’ voice rang out like a gunshot. He stood at the doorway that led to the back of the store, his hands balled in loose fists. “I should leave. I shouldn’t be here causing problems.” 

Peter took a slow step towards Stiles. “Stiles, we’re going to be okay, and you’re not causing any problems. We want to help you, Liz and I. We would really like you to stay. Keeping you safe is not a hardship for us.”

Taking a chance, Peter held out his arms. Stiles took the invitation and melted into the embrace. “I don’t want to leave, Peter,” Stiles whispered against his throat, “But I don’t want to risk you or Liz getting hurt.” 

Hugging Stiles close, Peter shot a look to Liz, and found her eyes full of understanding and sympathy. “Stiles, if you truly don't feel safe here, at least let us help you find someplace safe.”

“But that’s the thing, I do feel safe. You make me feel safe and I know I’ve only known you a day and I’m naive or whatever, but if Father Silver comes here, or his men find me,” Stiles shuddered in Peters arms, “They’ve killed before.” 

With no hesitation Peter cradled Stiles face in his hands, “Stiles, sweet boy, listen to me. Liz and I are no strangers to the danger that a man like him brings, and we’ve had more than our fair share of dealings with the likes of him.”

Liz made an affirming sound in her throat. “Stiles, I know you're worried about us, but why don’t you let someone else do the worrying for a change?”

Peter felt Stiles go lax in his arms “Okay. For now, I’ll stay,” Stiles whispered.

“That’s all we ask.” Peter kept an arm around Stiles, feeling a deep need to reassure himself that the boy wouldn’t bolt.

“You know, I think it’s time we started with some training. Your spark is there, it just needs a little wakeup call, and I think you might feel a little safer knowing you can defend yourself if the need arises.” Liz spoke as she looked through the shelves at the back of the counter, letting out a pleased sound when she found the object she was looking for, a large bound book and what looked like a twisted stick. The stick was wound around itself with a wooden ring that slid the length and followed the path of the twists and knots. “This book is a good place to start, lots of easy spells and the history of magic. My grandmother gave it to me, and I think it’s only right I pass it on to you, same with the puzzle stick.” 

Stiles took the stick and moved it around, the rings clinking together as he moved them.

“Is this some kind of magic stick?” Stiles asked, while moving the rings around. The action looked to be calming the him and Peter smiled, guessing at the purpose of the strange bit of wood.

“No child, it's a puzzle that my grandmother made. You're supposed to find a way to get those rings off, but for the life of me I never did Its other purpose is sort of like those fidget spinners, it helps you relax your mind.” 

Stiles leant against Peter, still moving the stick. “I can kind of see that. Thanks, Liz. Do you guys really think you can train me?” 

“You have potential, Stiles, and I don’t see why not. Both Peter and I can help with the magic side of things, but I think I'm a little too long in the tooth for the more physical side of your training.” Liz gave a grin. “I think I’ll leave that to your Alpha.”

While not strictly true, Peter had taken on an Alpha’s role with Stiles, and he knew there was no point correcting Liz, she would just get all mysterious and say something that was bound to embarrass both of them.

“Well if we’ve finished, I’d better get Stiles moving. We still have a bit to do before we head back to the pack house, and I want to make a stop by the station to see Parrish.” Peter grabbed the bags Liz had placed for him on the counter.

Liz came around and hugged them both. “I’m glad you found each other.” Liz held  Stiles’s face in her hands. “Trust him honey, Peter will keep you safe. He may have contributed to some of my grey hairs in his younger days, but he’s grown into a damn fine man.”

“I do already, Liz,” Stiles blushed. 

“Good. Now get going, the weatherman said there’s a big storm building and you know what these roads are like once the snow sets in.” Liz shooed them out of the store and Peter led Stiles down the street to a small nondescript building. The only hint of its purpose was the County emblem over the door and on one of the picture windows.

“Our council and Sheriff’s department have to share for the time being, a debacle with a Warlock and a Hellhound flattened the original building,” Peter smirked.

“You what now?”  Stiles’s mouth dropped open. 

Peter reached out and gently closed Stiles’s mouth with a finger under his chin. “It was an explosive confrontation.”

“It’s just so strange that magic and supernatural stuff is so out in the open here, like, nobody even cares?” Stiles shook his head.

“This is a very progressive little town, accepting of many things - not just the supernatural. I think you’ll be happy here.” 

Stiles gave a soft, hesitant smile, “I think so too.” Shyly, Stiles reached out and took Peters hand. Peters heart and head were having a silent battle. His head shied away from wanting more from this Stiles, but his heart wanted – oh,  _ how  _ it wanted. Maybe he’d let his heart have a little win. He held Stiles’s hand and squeezed gently, enjoying the rich scent of the boy, and just for now, just  for a moment , he let himself imagine what it would be like to have something more with this intriguing young man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting on my Stuffs


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A painful conversation about the past results in a new friend and allies, and a sweet tooth is reviled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the love for this fic, Peter and Stiles journey means a lot to me and I'm so happy your joining me on this trip.  
> Again a huge hug and thank you to Bunny for amazing comma and full stop wrangling.

Entering the small station, Stiles had a sudden pang of nostalgia. He’d always loved the busy atmosphere of the bullpen. As a kid, watching his dads’ deputies had filled Stiles with a sense of awe and pride. His dad worked to make the world a better place. Well, Stiles reflected sadly, that was what ten-year old him had thought. 

He missed his dad and his mom, but it was better not to think about them. If he did, that hurt, empty feeling took over. He had felt so lost and alone in the days after their death, and that didn’t change when Joshua took him. But those days were behind him  now, he hoped so anyway. Peter had promised to help and protect him, and for the first time in forever, he believed that might be true. 

When Liz had called Peter his Alpha, his heart had given a flutter, and the thought made him feel warm and strange. Not a bad strange, just a tightening in his guts. He was pretty certain he was falling for the handsome Alpha, which quite frankly was ridiculous – he’s known the man a grand total of twenty-four hours - but there was something about the Peter that called out to him. He knew the chances of Peter ever seeing him as anything but some kid he’d rescued was slim, but it was nice to imagine what it could be like.

“You okay, Stiles?” Peter’s soft voice pulled him from his daydreams back to the noisy station.

“Yeah, this place just brought back memories.” He couldn’t keep the wistful tone from his voice, and he saw Peter’s eyes fill with concern. The hand that held his tightened gently, as if Peter thought his touch could give him strength.

An immaculately dressed, red haired woman looked up from where she was glaring at a computer screen to give Peter a steely gaze. “Peter, if you’re here to complain about the Hollands and their all-night parties, I swear.”

“Don’t worry, Lydia. I took that matter in hand myself. The Hollands have promised me quite emphatically to keep the noise level down in future.” Peters smirk was almost devilish, and it did strange things to Stiles’s insides, making him feel hot and confused.

The woman – Lydia - threw her hands over her ears in mock outrage, but gave a matching same devilish grin. “As the town’s acting Prosecuting Attorney, I never heard that.” 

“Oh, are congratulations in order? did old Harrison finally have the good sense to step down and let you take the reins, finally?” 

Lydia let out an un-ladylike snort. “Not likely. He’s gone to New York for some family gathering, and said he trusted me to not get into any trouble while he was gone. The gall of that man,” Lydia frowned. Stiles got the feeling that Lydia was as fiery in nature as her bright hair, and that he was going to like this woman.

“Is Parrish in? I have some matters I really need to go over with him, and I’d rather not leave them too long.”

Lydia let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s out on a call. Again. You know, he has deputies to handle this stuff, and he’s supposed to be here helping me deal with this case, but one whiff of paper work and that hound runs for the hills.” Though she acted angry with the Sheriff, Stiles couldn’t help notice that she also sounded fond. Parris reminded Stiles of his  dad, He’d also rather be out dealing with crimes than stuck behind a desk.

Lydia pursed her lips and gave Stiles a long look. He wanted to fidget under the woman’s gaze, but instead stood still, gripping Peter’s hand like a lifeline.

“Was it something I can help with, a legal matter?” Lydia asked, not taking her eyes of Stiles.

“In a manner of speaking. It's complicated, and discretion is key.” Peter’s expression hardened. "Lives could be at risk.”

Lydia looked over towards a glass set of doors. “Head to Jordy’s office, I’ll be in  there in a minute.”

“Can we trust her, Peter?” Stiles whispered. He was nervous about anyone else being aware of his situation, but if Lydia could help, he was willing to trust Peter’s instincts.

“Lydia is one of the most tenacious, intelligent people I know. Don't let her youth fool you. Her mother is a strong supporter of supernatural rights, and Lydia shares her mother's views. Besides, being married to the town’s Sheriff and resident hellhound, she has more than a little firsthand knowledge,” Peter answered as he led Stiles through to the small office and drew the blinds on the glass window that looked out onto the bull pen.

Lydia arrived shortly after, carrying a tray laden with three mugs and a hot pot of coffee. Smiling at Peter’s raised eyebrow she laid the tray on the table. “I have a feeling this conversation is going to need caffeine.” She took a seat at the desk while Peter and Stiles sat down on the hard office chairs.

“Okay, why don't you start at the beginning?” Lydia prompted, indicating for them to grab a cup of coffee.

Stiles refused - too much played hell with his head during the day, and messed with his sleep. He glanced at Peter, hoping he’d get the hint that Stiles wanted him to speak for him. Peter gave a tiny nod, and Stiles allowed himself to relax.

“Lydia, I assume though your work, and that of your mother, that you’ve come across some of the more extreme of the Anti-Werewolf groups?” Peter asked.

Nodding and putting her coffee aside, Lydia sat back in the chair, her eyes glittering with anger. “Too many times. Why, have there been threats against you or Derek?” 

Peter held up a hand. “Not directly, but Stiles here has had some unfortunate dealings with them.”

Lydia's eyes narrowed and a fine brow arched. “Are you a member of a Pack, Stiles?”

“No. My Dad was a born wolf, a shifter from Beacon Hills. My Mom was fae. I'm not sure what I am.” Stiles looked down at his feet, uncomfortable with the woman's scrutiny.

“You said  _ was _ . Are your parents no longer alive?” Lydia asked bluntly. Stiles didn’t take it personally  \- he could see Lydia was the type of person who was straight to the point, no punches pulled.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke. “My parents were killed in a staged home invasion, made to look like a robbery gone wrong.” He was  trembling, talking about it brought those memories close to the surface, but before he could shut down a warm hand enveloped his own, and Peter smiled at him reassuringly.

He could do this, Stiles told himself. They wanted to help him, and maybe they could stop Father Silver. He took a deep breath, and started talking.

Two emotional hours later, Stiles finished his story. Peter had moved so he could wrap an arm protectively around Stiles, and he was again thankful for Peter’s comforting presence. Lydia's face was stern, but her eyes shone with understanding and compassion.

He hadn’t meant to blurt it all out, but with Peters solid presence beside him and Lydia's gentle questions, his whole story had come tumbling out - not all of the terrible details - Stiles still wasn’t comfortable with sharing those - but enough that both Peter and Lydia now knew what Stiles had dealt with for the last six years.

Lydia looked over at Peter, her face awash with emotions but at the forefront, anger. Not directed at Stiles, but at those who had taken him. “Peter, I’ll help in whatever capacity I can. What do you need me to do?”

Peter gave stiles a reassuring squeeze. before he leaned forward “Is there any way we can get Stiles his documentation? ID, social security number? I’d like to let him use the old Jeep to get about town, but he needs both a license and ID for that, and the church still has hold of his.”

Lydia gave a smile, "That I can do. I’ll make some calls, and we can keep this under the radar so if the church  are sniffing around, they won’t find out.”

Stiles watched as Lydia quickly jotted down on a notepad his date of birth and home town. “We can start here, and then with your permission, Stiles, I would like to speak to some contacts I have in the States Attorney's office. From what you have told me, what this church has done violates not only State but federal laws, and I would love the chance to prosecute these assholes back into the stone age.”

Stiles blinked and let out a nervous snicker at Lydia swearing, but then stopped, the reality of what Lydia was saying hitting him. “They’ll say I’m lying. They have signed letters saying Dad gave them custody of me in his will, and they’ll deny the other stuff ever happened.” Ducking his  head, he stared at the floor.

A pair of dainty ballet flats came into his periphery and Lydia hunched down. “Stiles, look at me. I know how these assholes work, and we’re not going to let them get away with this. They can spread their lies, but I know every word you said was truth,”

Stiles blinked and straightened up. “How?”   
  
Lydia tipped her head towards Peter, her red tresses bobbing. “Because _he_ believes you.”

“Oh,” was all Stiles could think to say.

Lydia went back to her seat and Stiles zoned out while they talked, the dragging up of old memories had exhausted him to the point he just wanted to fall asleep, but he came back to awareness with a jot when a name from his past was mentioned.

“McCall.” Peter snarled; even in the short time knowing Peter, Stiles knew that snarl was not a good sign.

“Yes, Peter. Agent McCall would be the Fed we would have to go through.” Lydia spoke in the weary, patient tone of someone who had had this discussion with Peter before.

“No,” Stiles blurted out, heat rushing to his cheeks when two sets of eyes turned to him.

“Stiles, we are going to need the feds’ help.” Lydia said, visibly struggling to keep her patience.

“Not him... Not Rafe McCall.” Stiles shuddered at the memory of the man. Peter was down on his knees in front of Stiles in a flash, blue eyes filled with concern.

“Why not, sweetheart? Do you know him?” 

Stiles swallowed hard, trying to force the bile that was rising in his throat back down.

“He put his son in the church's hands...and...and he’s the one who called himself Joshua, the one who took me away from Beacon Hills.” Stiles could not bring himself to tell the rest of what Brother Rafe had done, the memories too painful. Stiles reached out and clutched at Peters shirt, suddenly terrified.

“Lydia, under no circumstances are you to involve the feds, not until we can prove McCall's involvement. I'll get Chris onto it,” Peters tone was all Alpha, and the authority in his voice comforted Stiles more than he  thought it would. He pushed himself closer to Peter, still shaken, needing his comfort and closeness.

“I agree. I’ll get Stiles the documents he needs and we can arrange for Jordan to help Stiles with his license when he's ready. Look, I know between you and Chris you can...” Lydia went silent for a moment then spoke words with heavy meaning “You can get things...done, but we need to use the law to its fullest here, to make an example of these monsters.” 

“The law hasn’t been all that effective in the past. I don’t remember Kate Argent trembling in fear of the law.” The words were heavy with scorn.

“I know Peter, and believe me, if I had been the prosecuting attorney in charge at the time that would never have happened, but I can do something now if you will let me. All I ask is that you don’t keep me out of the loop.” Stiles could hear the sincerity in her voice and he could feel Peter’s breathing even out, the firm chest muscles he rested against relaxing.   
  
“I know Lydia, and I promise to at least keep you informed,” Peter answered as his arms tightened around Stiles.

Stiles kept his face pressed against Peters chest, the words spoken between Lydia and Peter muffled out until Peter tipped Stiles face up. “Let's get you home sweetheart, I think today has been more than enough.” 

Stiles nodded in agreement. He just wanted to go back to Peters house, to the lake and to safety. ”Yeah, I wanna go home.” Stiles whispered, and wondered at how quickly Peter’s house and Peter himself had become home to him. Stiles supposed he should be worried about how strongly he felt about the Alpha and being in his home, but after so many years without safety, the acts of kindness that Peter had shown had made Stiles’s heart blossom, and maybe, he admitted to himself, he’d fallen a little bit in love.    


Holding Peter’s hand as they walked out of the office, he let himself imagine what it would be like to be part of a couple, to have those things he’d secretly wanted but never thought he’d have. Maybe he was too young and naive for Peter, but he could always dream.

Stiles was surprised when they got to the truck and Peter hugged him tight. “I’m so proud of you, Stiles. I didn’t expect you to open up to Lydia like that, or for you to be able to tell us what happened. I was willing to wait till you were ready, you know.”

The scent of Peter in his nose made Stiles melt a little against him. “I... I needed to. You trust her, and she can help.”   
  
“She certainly can and I do trust her, especially now she knows what's at stake.” Peter leaned down and kissed the top of Stiles’s head but pulled away quickly, a tiny crease between his brows..   
  
“I shouldn’t have done that.” Peter let go of Stiles with a small sigh.

Stiles, feeling braver than normal, leaned over to kiss Peters cheek. “I didn’t mind,” he said, then got into the truck quickly, cheeks hot enough to burn. 

0o0

Peter wanted to get Stiles home as quickly as possible. His boy.  _ (There was no use fighting it, was there?)  _ Stiles was his, or at least Peter wanted him to be. __ The day had been draining on Stiles, Peter could tell by the way his skin had paled and the dark, haunted look had returned to his eyes. Too much too soon, Peter berated himself. 

He hadn’t expected Stiles to open up as much as he did to Lydia, and the more that Peter heard, the more enraged on Stiles’s behalf he became. This brave, intelligent young man deserved the best, and instead had been treated worse than an animal, all because of who he was and what his parents had been. 

And Fucking Rafe McCall. Peter knew that man was been trouble the moment he’d come sniffing around town after the fire. The way he’d looked at the burned Pack house had been more than professional interest. At the time Peter had been too caught in his own grief to give much thought to the cold, calculating looks, but now, in hindsight...    
  
If he saw the man again, nothing would stop him from ripping Rafe's heart out with his claws.

And then he thought about that soft kiss to his cheek, and thoughts of revenge and murder fled. Stiles. Peter wondered how it was that the young man could affect him so?

“Peter? Are you okay?”  Stile's soft voice brought him out of his musings. Stiles was curled up in the passenger's seat, tucked under Peter’s jacket again. 

Peter reached over and patted Stiles’s leg, “I'm fine. I just realized we’re going to have to make a stop at the grocery store, that’s all. You can wait in the car while I  go in. ” 

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t think I want to be alone, even if it is only while you go in. I’ll come, if that’s ok.” 

“That’s fine sweetheart. Is there anything you like to eat that we should pick up?”

“Not really. Unless you know how to make curly fries?” Stiles said, sitting up a little bit straighter.   
  
“I don’t, but I know the diner makes them. Next time we’re in town why don’t we stop and have lunch there?” Peter was encouraged to see Stiles brighten up a little.

“That would be cool. Dad always used to take us to the diner in town. They made the best curly fries and blue moon milk shakes.” Stiles answered with a small smile.

Peter pulled into the grocery store’s lot and parked beside a familiar black SUV. It looked like Derek and Chris had made the run to town as well. Chris had probably heard about the incoming storm and, true worrywart that he was, would have decided they needed a years' worth of groceries just in case.

Peter let out a laugh as he got out of the car. walking towards them with a shopping cart full and Derek's arms piled high with groceries were Derek and Chris. Stiles nervously ducked behind Peter, but settled once Peter explained who the two were.   
  
“So, they’re your pack then,” Stiles whispered

“Yes, and they’ll be yours too I hope.” Peter shook Chris’s hand “I told Stiles you would be preparing for the storm of the century.” Derek rolled his eyes and nodded. Chris just shrugged. “Pays to be prepared.” He cast an enquiring eye towards Stiles.

“This is my new friend I told you about.” Peter wrapped a protective arm around Stiles’s waist. “Stiles, this is Chris Argent, I told you a bit about him, and the one with the caterpillar eyebrows is my nephew, Derek.”

Chris spoke first. “Hey, kid. Peter’s told me a little. Don’t worry, the parking lot’s not the place for a long conversation, but just know we have Peter’s back, and we want to help.” Chris grinned and held a hand out and Stiles nervously shook it, then burrowed back against Peter’s side, “Damn kid, you’re cute as a button, no wonder Peters gone all protective Alpha over you.” Stiles blushed beetroot, but then let out a snorting laugh when Derek, Stiles was certain that was his name, slapped the older man’s arm. “Be nice, Chris. Don’t freak the poor kid out.”    
  
“What? I’m being nice!” Chris pouted, which earned another soft snort from Stiles.

Derek stepped forward. “Hi. I'm Derek, Peters nephew.” Stiles reached out to shake hands and let out a squeak when Derek leaned in and rubbed his cheek against Stiles’s. He stood back and gave a mysterious smile. 

“Nice to meet you too,” Stiles stammered out. “Did – did you just scent mark me?”

Peter arched a brow and shook his head fondly. "Derek tends to let his wolf lead, and manners follow.”

“Oh,  its okay, I was just wondering,” Stiles answered, smiling. “The werewolves I grew up around did it all the time, but you...you haven’t,” Stiles blushed and looked away.

Peter was flummoxed. He suddenly saw why Stiles must be craving physical touch. He would have gone from growing up with werewolves and their tactile nature, to receiving very little positive physical contact over the last six years, and Peter needed to fix that.

He wrapped an arm around Stiles’s narrow waist and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry Stiles, I wasn’t certain if it was welcome, but I promise, you’ll get all the scenting you desire, if you want it.” 

Stiles let out a happy hum, leaning into Peter, “I like the sound of that.”

Derek and Chris looked at the two of them and Peter shot Chris a warning look, just daring the hunter to say something. Chris smirked in return and Derek’s eyebrows told Peter all he needed to know about his nephew's feelings.   
  
“Well, Stiles and I had better make a move, if the weather reports are to be believed we won't be making another trip into town before next week.” Peter eyed the sky which had already begun to darken with heavy clouds.

“Alright then, call if you need us.” Chris and Derek  left, and Peter led Stiles into the store.

Once they had gotten the staples, including extra bread, milk, and meat, Peter led them down to the cereal aisle, grabbing a box of porridge and another of swiss muesli he noticed Stiles screwing up his nose. “Not a fan of healthy start to the morning, Stiles?”

“I mean yeah, I suppose, but.” His tone showed he was anything but. Stiles looked longingly at the brightly colored boxes of cereal aimed towards kids. Peter grabbed a box with a cartoon wolf,  _ Cookie Crisp _ , and his eyes nearly popped out of his head at the list of sugary ingredients, but the wistful look on Stiles face made him pause before putting the box back.

“Remember how we talked about letting me make the decisions for you?” Peter asked. Stiles nodded slowly.   
  
“Well, part of that would be making sure you ate well. You’re underweight, and I'm sure your diet was poor while you were with...” Peter bit back a snarl at the thought of the ‘church’.   
  
Stiles nodded again, head tilted, listening. “Yeah.”

“So how about this?” Peter put the box in the cart “During the week, you put up with a healthy breakfast, and on the weekends, you can have all the sugary cereal you can stomach.”

“Deal, but can I also grab some Eggos?” Stiles was almost bouncing on his toes in excitement.

Peter couldn't help laughing.“You do realize you have one more day till the weekend?” 

Stiles face ran through a series of complicated expressions, but then settled in an adorable pout. "Peter, it's been  _ years _ since I was allowed to have anything remotely fun to eat. Could I have one bowl of it tonight?” Stiles tried to flutter his lashes, which just made Peter laugh even harder. 

Oh, the boy was such a lovely little minx, but Peter wanted to keep Stiles from falling into bad eating habits. Having been secluded away like he was Peter could see that impulse control and decision making could be problematic. Stiles had readily ceded some control of his life over to Peter, but when they got home Peter decided they would talk more about it.

Peter had given up pretending that Stiles was just a rescue, or that the feelings the boy had stirred in him when they first met were just platonic. But he wasn’t going to act on it. Stiles needed to be allowed to live life, not go from his cloistered life at the church to suddenly living as Peter’s boy. No, Peter wouldn’t do that to Stiles. But that didn’t mean Peter wouldn’t welcome it if Stiles chose him.

“Planet Earth to Peter.” Stiles was standing in front of him. holding another brightly colored cereal box. 

“Another box, Stiles?" Peter rolled his eyes.

“Peter, I’ve missed out on six years of cereal evolution, and I feel it is my duty to at least try them all.” Stiles winked as he threw the second box into the cart.

“I’m limiting you to two, Stiles, this week at least, and,” Peter held his hand up, “it’s for weekends only, am I clear?” Peter argued, knowing damn well that Stiles would find a loophole in this agreement.

“Yup, only for weekends,” Stiles agreed readily, before he skipped ahead looking at something else.

The little shit had agreed to that too quickly in Peter’s opinion, but he looked forwards to seeing how Stiles would try to circumnavigate his rule. A little rebellion would be good for him. Of course, Peter wouldn’t let him get away with too much, but he wanted Stiles to feel comfortable enough to act out a little. It would be  healthy, after having his every move dictated by the church for so long.

By the time they made it to the checkout, several bags of chips and bags of candy had mysteriously appeared alongside the salmon, lean beef and vegetables.

“Home I think, and something potentially healthy to counteract all that processed junk you think I haven’t noticed.” Peter grabbed the bags while Stiles walked in front.

“You're not angry with me for putting those things in are you, Peter? I can put them back.” Stiles brow was drawn into a worried scowl.

“Of course not. I just ask you balance all that sugar out with something healthy.” Peter held his keys out to Stiles, who grabbed them and opened the truck up. Peter loaded the groceries into the back of the truck, then pulled the tarp tight over them.

The air had grown decidedly chillier since they had entered the store, and Peter cranked the heat up in the truck. “Home. A hearty stew for dinner in front of the fireplace sounds like the order of the evening.”

Stiles smiled back. “That sounds like the best idea ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my Stuffs™ and leaving comments<3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Peter take a step in a new direction,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I want to thank all of you who have read and left wonderful comments, I am over the moon with how you all have loved this journey.   
> Again a huge Hug and thank you to Bunnywest for wrangling my full stops and calming my random comma throwing

The snow started falling in fat, wet blobs shortly after they left town, and was turning into a blizzard by the time they pulled into the gravel road that led to the Lake House. Peter sent Stiles straight upstairs to shower and get into warm clothes while Peter bustled about the kitchen. 

Halfway through browning the meat his phone rang, and he had to suppress a groan of annoyance when he saw it was Chris.

Sliding the phone to hands free he answered, barking out a surly, “What, Christopher?”

An amused chuckle was his answer. “Just wanted to check that you and Stiles got home safe. It's really coming down now.”

Peter shoved the meat about in the pan. “We got home before it got too bad. I'm trying to get dinner ready, so if that was all you were calling  for... ”

“He’s a sweetheart, Peter.” Chris spoke plainly, and Peter stifled a growl. 

“ Yes he is Christopher, a lovely young man who needs our help.” Peter most definitely did not want to have this conversation with Chris.

“Don’t get defensive with me. I just wanted to say it's good to see you open up again. I don’t need to be a wolf to sense how much you care for that boy already.” Chris used his most reasonable tone. Peter hated it.

“Of course I care. I'm not a total asshole.” 

Another deep chuckle. “I never said you were, but if you want my opinion -”   
  
“I don’t,” Peter snapped, but Chris carried on regardless.

“That’s a boy in serious need of a Daddy if ever I saw one.”

“Chris!” Peter growled. 

“Don’t be obtuse, Peter. You know it as well as I do. That boy needs guidance and love, the sort the best Daddy I know could give him.” 

“I don’t know. And I won't do that to Stiles. He’s come to me for help, not to be my boy, and I'm pretty sure it would send him running if he knew about that side of my life.” Peter snapped.

“Jesus, Peter. I’m not saying now, I'm not an idiot. All I'm saying is, don’t shut yourself off to the possibility. You obviously care for Stiles already, and if the way he looked at you is any indication, the feeling is mutual.” 

“Can we drop this? Stiles is special, and he’s sweet, and you’re right, I do care for him, but I'm not going to scare him off by having him think I had ulterior motives for helping him. So not one word from you about Daddies or Daddy kink.” 

A soft gasp behind him had Peter turning around. Stiles stood in the doorway with a hand to his mouth and a rosy tinge to his cheeks.

“I’ve got to go. " He indicated to Stiles to stay put. The boy blushed and ducked his head, but didn’t move.

  
“He just walked in, right?” Chris said. God, Peter hated it when Chris was right.

  
“Shut up.” Peter hit end call and walked over to Stiles, who hadn’t moved. 

He’d obeyed without a second thought, and that had Peter's head spinning. But was that only a result of his programming by the church? Of what was done against his will? Or was it something more? Jesus, Peter had to stop this line of thinking right now. Stiles needed a friend, someone  safe - not some horny older man looking to take advantage.

“I'm sorry I interrupted your phone call,” Stiles whispered, still looking down at his feet.

“Sweetheart, you did nothing of the sort.” Stiles cocked his head and gave Peter a disbelieving look. “Okay maybe you did, but it is no problem. Chris was being a nosy asshole and you saved me from saying something rude.”

“You told him to shut up, then hung up on him. That’s kind of rude,” Stiles answered, head tipped back down, gaze  focused on the floor.

“It was, but you have to understand Chris and I have known each other for years, since we were kids in fact.” Peter guided Stiles to one of the kitchen stools and then sat on the other stool next to him.

“ So were you two ever, um involved?” Stiles’s ears pinked.

“ No we weren't. Chris and I are both too dominant. Do you understand what that means?” Peter wasn’t sure, given his sheltered past, just how much Stiles knew about relationships, or friendships for that matter.

“You both want to be the boss, in charge, right?” Stiles answered, no longer looking at his feet. His honey eyes focused on Peter, who felt the weight of their gaze. 

“That’s about the gist of it. Chris and I both share that trait, amongst others. We like to be caretakers, to provide and care for our partners in both the physical and emotional aspects of our relationships.” Peter was trying to tread  carefully - how much was too much information for Stiles?

“I heard Chris call you a Daddy. What does that even mean? You don’t have  kids, do you?” 

Peter covered a smirk “No, no children.” Peter let out a sigh while he decided how to how to broach the topic. “Stiles, I’m aware that while you were with the Church you would have been given a skewed and probably incorrect view of sex and relationships.”   
  
Stiles nodded, then bit his lip nervously. “I, um,” he squinted at Peter and examined the back of his hands. "I may have...” Stiles stopped talking and started fidgeting.

“You may have what?” Peter prompted.

“We were - once a month we were allowed to go into town. They had a small library and we could work on the computers, but only to read religious teachings and sites that talked about the evils of the supernatural. The town was controlled by the church, so all the computers had internet blocks on them.” Stiles answered, fingers still fidgeting. Peter enclosed one of the slim hands with his own, giving Stiles a reassuring smile to go on. “I was always good with tech when I was a kid - Dad always worried I was going to bring about Skynet, whatever that means.” 

“I see we have some gaps in your pop culture knowledge to fill,” Peter smiled, liking the idea of revisiting classic movies and shows with Stiles.

“So, while the guards, um, we were supposed to call them counselors but they were guards... while they were busy chatting up the young librarian, I may have hacked the block.” 

“My clever boy,” Peter praised, liking the smile he got in return. Stiles seemed to soak up praise like a proverbial sponge. Peter would keep that in mind.

“It wasn’t that  hard; they used a fairly simple Net Nanny. I was scared they would find out, but each time I got to go to the library I would search for stuff under the radar, first it was stuff about the supernatural, about werewolves like my dad, and then, when I kind of figured out I liked guys, I um found some other sites.”

Peter arched a brow. “Let me guess – porn?”

Stiles went beetroot red. “Oh my gosh, I nearly passed out from panic I was so worried someone would look over my shoulder, but I picked the computer at the back so no one would look, and I could see when one of the guards came too close.” 

“That was very smart thinking, Stiles,” Peter praised him again, enjoying the sweet vanilla scent that rose from the boy each time he did.

“Thanks. I just wanted to know that what I was feeling wasn’t wrong. Each time one of the councilors yelled at us for being gay, but they used a worse word,” Stiles whispered, “I got angry. They hated us because we came from supernatural families, and then I was gay as well, but the stuff I found online showed me they were the ones who were wrong.” Stiles sat up and looked Peter in the eye. “I knew I wasn’t bad or sinful just because of who my parents were, or who I was attracted to.”

“My brave boy,” Peter murmured, and fought the urge to stroke Stiles’s hair.

“I wasn't, though. I let them beat me and say those things, even though they were lies. I didn’t stop them Peter.” Stiles curled in on himself. 

“Stiles, sweetheart, stop that. You didn’t  _ let _ them do anything. They abused and mistreated you, took you away from your life and your family, but you retained that beautiful sweet nature, and they never managed to twist that wonderful mind. You  _ are  _ brave.” Peter felt his own eyes sting with tears, and all he wanted was to wrap Stiles in his arms. 

“You really think so?” The hope shining in Stiles’s eyes was heartbreaking. He needed to be cherished and shown how special he was, and damn it, Peter wanted to be the one to do it, not some stranger who had no idea what a precious gift Stiles was.

“I do think so, but I think we should continue this conversation in the lounge. I’ll put the stew on to cook and then we can curl up on the couch. We’ll have plenty of time to talk. I suspect you found plenty of interesting things on your internet searches.” He arched a brow and Stiles blushed and nodded. “Hold that thought, and stay put for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Peter put the stew into the oven then walked back over to Stiles. He held out a hand and Stiles took it shyly. The fire was lit, bathing the room in a soft glow and negating the chill of the storm that was already building up outside.

Peter led them over to one of the overstuffed sofas and sat down. Stiles stood, looking nervous. “Sweetheart, we’re going to just sit and talk, and I do remember promising you some cuddles and scenting.”

Stiles eyes lit up. “Yeah, you did.” He sat down close to where Peter leant on the chair and let out a sigh as he relaxed. “This is nice.”    
  
“It is. Now, how about you tell me what you found on your internet adventures?” Peter poked Stiles gently in the side and was rewarded with a bashful smile.

“I. ..I found this site that had all these stories, fanfiction I think is what they called them, and there was one, this angel and hunter who fell in love. It had a lot of sex in it – like,  _ a lot! _ ” Stiles’s eyes went adorably wide, and Peter had to suppress the urge to laugh.

“Stiles, fanfic is probably not the best place to get your sex education from,” Peter had to warn, but my, that wide, doe-eyed look would be Peter’s undoing. So sweet but under that so smart – Stiles really was everything Peter liked in his  boys.

“Yeah,  yeah , I found some sexual health sites too, but in the fanfic, this angel was super protective over his hunter. He kept calling him his boy, and he would do all this stuff and not just sexy stuff, but other things. And. ..the hunter called the angel Daddy.” Stiles grinned and went on, “I thought it was a bit weird at first, but it still made me feel warm here.” Stiles gestured at his stomach. 

“You liked how the angel took care of his boy, Stiles?” Peter asked softly. Anticipation, and something deeper, awakened in Peter.

“Yeah. I mean, I know I'm clueless and naive and all that other stuff, but of all the stories I managed to read none made me feel like those ones. I liked how the - daddy?” Stiles looked to Peter for confirmation and at his nod continued, “I liked how he was in charge, how it helped his boy keep...” Stiles shrugged. “I'm not sure of the word I'm looking for, but I know that his boy felt safe.” Stiles face was pensive. “Does that make me sound strange?”

“On the contrary, Stiles. I think it's wonderful, after all you’ve been through, that your mind was still so open to be able to see it for what it was. And yes, the concept of Daddy/boy relationships is very much about caretaking. It's something I very much enjoy, and it’s wonderful with the right partner.” Peter relaxed against the cushions and let out a pleased sigh when Stiles leaned against him, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“Did you have someone to look after like that?” Stiles queried softly.

Peter’s heart clenched at the thought of Theo, but he owed it to Stiles to be honest with him. “I did, or I thought I did. Four years ago, I met a young man at a club in the city. His name was Theo. We clicked, and I thought I’d found my boy after many years of, well...hook ups. Casual relationships.” Peter looked down at Stiles to see if he understood, and Stiles nodded.

“What I didn’t know was that Theo was troubled, - damaged you could say, and he’d turned to drugs as a way to escape his pain. When I found out, I offered to help him, and at first, I thought I was. But it turned out Theo was selling information about me and Derek to a group of rogue hunters who were out to kill Derek and myself. They paid Theo in drugs and cash, then paid him to kill me.”

Stiles let out a horrified gasp, then a soft growl. “How could he do that to you?” Stiles pulled Peter close and let out another growl. “Did they catch him? I’m sorry Peter, but the guy sounds like an asshole.”

“He was.” Peter didn’t have the heart to tell Stiles what had happened to Theo. It was a terrible end for a damaged soul, and Peter had lived with the guilt for a long time, even though Theo’s end wasn’t Peters doing.

“For a long time, I worried that I hadn’t done enough to help him. I kept beating myself up about it, and I refused to even look at having another relationship.” Peter looked down at Stiles, and saw nothing but soft concern reflected back at him. 

“Oh.” Stiles said softly. The boy's scent changed, tinged with regret and sadness. 

“Are you okay? " Peter murmured into the crown of Stiles’s head. Stiles leaned closer against Peter, and Peter wasn’t sure if it was even a conscious thing on Stiles’s part. He was obviously starved of affection, and  it broke Peter’s heart.

“I just don’t understand how people can hurt one another "Stiles licked his lips as he spoke, and Peter found himself focusing on those lips. He wanted to kiss them, to show Stiles he was no longer alone, that he had Peter. He wanted, and there was no use arguing with himself. He was Stiles’s for the taking, if Stiles would have him.

His musings about what Stiles’s lips would feel like were broken by the loud ding of the oven timer, and reluctantly Peter stood. When Stiles went to stand Peter gently sat him back down. “Stay put. I'll bring the bowls and bread out  here, you just keep warm.” 

Stiles gave him a soft smile and snuggled back into the sofa. Without thinking Peter brushed a few strands of Stiles’s hair back, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Let me dote on you tonight, you’ve had a long, difficult day.” 

The sweet, almost dopy smile Stiles gave was a reward in itself, and Peter practically floated through to the kitchen to prepare the meal. 

As they ate, Peter kept catching Stiles sneaking looks at him, a light blush covering his cheeks. Peter was certain it wasn’t from the heat of the fire place.

”Stiles ,sweetheart, what is it? You can ask me anything.”

Stiles put his empty bowl aside and turned to face Peter, refusing to catch his gaze. “I like when you call me that,” he mumbled, cheeks heating.   
  
“What, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah. It makes me feel warm here.” Stiles placed a hand to his chest, and Peter reached over and placed his hand over Stiles’s. 

“I don’t know how or why, but you make me crave to care for you, Stiles. I know it feels too fast, and I don’t want to make you do anything you're not ready for, but something in you calls to me.”

“Do you remember when I told you why I went to the bar?” Stiles cocked his head.

“Yes. You said you wanted to experience life away from under Father Silver, and you wanted to know the truth about pleasure,” Peter answered, voice husky.

Stiles bit his lip. Peter’s gaze was drawn to where Stiles’s teeth dug into the plump flesh, and it was a struggle to keep his wolf in check. “I still want those things, but now...now I only want them with you,” Stiles said in a rush, and Peter could only wonder at the courage it must have taken to admit that.

“Do you know what you're asking?” Peters voice felt raw. He wanted this boy, but he held his instincts in check. He never wanted to frighten Stiles, only bring him pleasure.

“Right now?” Stiles gave a sultry smile and licked his lips deliberately,  bolder now. “Right now, I want you to be my first kiss.” Stiles’s heartbeat remained steady, and his eyes didn’t leave Peter’s as he spoke.

With a soft growl, Peter pulled the boy across so he straddled Peter’s lap. Cradling Stiles’s face in his palms, he kissed him slowly, gently. Stiles melted into him and opened his mouth readily to Peter’s exploring tongue. With each kiss, with each swipe of his tongue, he elicited sweet little moans from Stiles. 

He bit lightly at those plump lips then soothed the bite with a deeper kiss. Stiles rocked against Peter’s lap and he could feel Stiles growing hard, his burgeoning erection pressed against Peter’s own aching cock. He trailed his hand down Stiles’s back while he gently nipped and licked at Stiles’s throat, and his hands found Stiles’s round, perfect backside. 

Stiles groaned and thrust up against him again, and Peter knew he needed to make a decision. “Stiles, baby, what do you need?”

Stiles panted into Peter's neck. “You - more - I don’t know.”

“Do you want to come, sweetheart?" As much as he'd love to see his boy breathless and flushed with pleasure, Peter would rather slam on the brakes than go too far, too fast.

"Please," Stiles whimpered, hips still grinding.

"Do you want me to help?” Peter asked, because arousal was one thing, but verbal consent was another.

“Yes,” Stiles whispered.

“Take what you need from me, baby,” Peter husked against the skin of Stiles’s throat.

Biting more firmly at the delicious soft skin of Stiles’s throat, Peter gripped Stiles’s hips and held him in place, helping him find a rhythm, and he reveled in the feel of Stiles rocking and grinding against him until the boy gave a shudder and came, the potent smell of sex filling the confined space between them. Stiles was a picture as his back arched, his throat a lovely, pale expanse, gleaming in the firelight. Peter kissed him through the last of the aftershocks, Stiles rocking slowly in his lap.

“Oh,” Stiles sighed, then looked down at Peters lap and the obvious bulge there. Biting his lip, he reached a hand down. “Can I - can I touch you?”

Peter gently took his hand before it reached its goal. “Not tonight, sweet boy. As much as I would love that another time, this was about you,”

Stiles pouted, and Peter kissed it away with a gentle press of his lips. “We’re not going to rush this sweetheart. As enticing as you look and smell,” Peter ran his nose along Stiles neck, “and you  _ do _ smell divine, we’re going to take this slow.” 

Stiles bit his bottom lip, but nodded.

“Why don’t you head up and have a shower? I’ll clean up down here, then we can  cuddle up and talk a bit more.” Peter ran his fingers through Stiles’s hair in a gentle caress.

Stiles smiled and gave a coy head tilt. “Could we have hot chocolate?”

Peter smiled. “I think that’s a good idea. Do you want to cuddle down here or upstairs?”

Stiles looked adorably unsure when he asked, “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Do you think I could...sleep in your bed?”

Peter hugged him close, pressing another kiss to Stiles’s temples. “Of course, but only sleeping, sweetheart. We need to talk before we take things further.”

Stiles huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Well yeah, I mean you're going to have to take me out on a proper date before I let you go all the way.”

Peter laughed, flicking Stiles’s ear affectionately. He smirked as he bussed another kiss across Stiles’s temple. “Cheeky little shit. Go and shower, you smell entirely too enticing right now.” 

Stiles bounced off Peter’s lap and flipped him a salute. “Yes, sir,” he quipped, before running for the stairs. Peter arched a brow, quite certain that Stiles had no idea of how that honorific was music to Peters ears.  _ Oh, this boy _ .

“Slow down,” he called.  ”I don’t want you slipping and breaking your damned neck. And grab the  gray robe from the hook in my bathroom, I don’t want you catching cold.”

o0o

  
  


Stiles’s mind and body were fizzing as he ran up the stairs, only slowing down after Peter’s warning. Excitement and nervous joy coursed through him. Peter liked him - not just as a friend or a rescue, but he really  _ liked  _ him. 

He pressed his fingers to his lips. They still tingled from when they’d kissed. That had been both unexpected and welcome. Peter didn’t see him as just some naive kid – well, maybe he did, but he liked him,  _ wanted _ him, regardless. Stiles felt a warm glow thinking about how Peter had sought his consent before things got out of hand, and he loved that Peter was willing to take things slow. Stiles had read enough on the internet to kind of know what to expect, but he also trusted Peter to guide him and not rush things. 

Stepping under the spray of the shower, he ran his fingers against the side of his neck, wondering -  _ hoping _ \- that maybe there’d be a bruise there in the morning.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and Peters voice floated in. "Stiles, you forgot to grab the robe, do you want it in there or on the bed?”

Stiles bit his lip. It would be nice to slip straight into the robe once he was dry, but at the thought of Peter seeing him naked he blushed, caught between excitement and embarrassment. 

“Um...”

  
He could hear Peter’s soft laugh. “How about I close my eyes and hang it on the back of the door? I won't peek, I promise.” And if that didn’t make Stiles’s heart melt even more.   


“Yeah, ok.” Stiles stood still behind the frosted glass when he heard the door push open. He didn’t know why he was feeling so shy all of a sudden. At some point he wanted to be naked with Peter, hell to the yes, but right now, he felt strangely self-conscious.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't look. There are some pajama bottoms for you as well. They may be a little loose but they’ll do the trick.” Stiles could see Peter’s outline through the frosted glass and he had his back to Stiles, giving him privacy.

“Thank you,” Stiles squeaked  out.

“Come across to my room once you're ready.” Peter paused, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “That is, if you’d still like to sleep in my bed. I won't be offended if you’ve changed your mind.” 

_ Did _ he have second thoughts? Stiles wondered. No, he decided. Not at all. He trusted Peter, and knew that he would keep his promise to go slow. They would touch and talk, and Stiles really wanted that. The feel of Peter’s arms around him made him feel safe like nothing else.

“No I do want to, just let me finish washing up.” He stared dumbly at the wash cloth in his hands for a minute before starting to wash himself.

“Ok sweetheart, I'm going to throw myself in a shower. Hop into bed when  you're ready  and don't forget the dressing gown.” 

Stiles basked in the care evident in Peter’s tone. “Yes, Sir,” he  singsonged \- he’d seen the way Peter's eyes had flashed when he’d said that earlier, and he’d enjoyed the way Peter had reacted. For some reason the title seemed to sit well with him, not perfect, but it still felt good to say it.

Peter left, and Stiles rushed through the rest of his shower, eager to be snuggled up in Peter’s kings sized bed that he had glimpsed from the doorway.

Donning the robe and the fluffy socks Peter had left out, Stiles walked softly down the hallway to the master suite. The room had exposed timbers like the one Stiles slept in, but on a much grander scale. Situated at the end of the house, the room had windows on two of the walls, one large picture window facing out towards the lake, the other looking down the shore and into the hills. 

The room was filled well-made timber furniture, rustic yet also carefully crafted. Stiles ran his hand along the smooth timber of the footboard of the bed, the wood feeling like satin under his hand. He ran his finger along the ivy-patterned inlay and marveled at the wolves carved into the headboard. The craftsman, whoever they were, had seemed to capture the wolves’ playful spirit in the grain of the wood.

“Do you like it?” Peter’s voice came from behind him, and Stiles turned to see Peter leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, shirtless and with sleep pants hanging low on his hips, Peter was the picture of every sinful dream Stiles had ever had.

“It's beautiful. The wolves looked like they’re dancing, or playing.” Stiles ran his fingers along the larger of the wolf pair carved into the wood.

“It's something like that.” Peter’s eyes twinkled in amusement. He came up behind Stiles, wrapping an arm around his waist and laid his other hand over Stiles’s. “When a pair are mated, one of the pair will lead the other on a chase through the woods, and when they are caught...” Peter’s breath ghosted against Stiles’s neck, making him shiver.

“What happens?” Stiles fought to keep his voice composed. 

“They’re claimed in the forest, for the moon to witness.” Peter’s voice was soft, but Stiles could hear a sense of longing and loss there.

“Who made the bed?” Stiles had to ask, fascinated by the workmanship, but also keen to steer Peter away from the sadness he could sense.

He felt Peter’s lips quirk against his neck, “I did. I made most of the furniture in this house, and a fair amount of the furniture in Derek and Chris’s.”

Stiles turned so he could face Peter and slid his arms around Peter’s waist. “ It's beautiful.”

“Thank you. I make pieces and then sell them to exclusive stores around the country. It’s a hobby that I have been able to make slightly profitable.” Peter tilted his head towards the bed. “Come on, let's get under the covers and talk.”

Stiles walked over to the side of the bed and stood there, not sure whether he should just get in, since he didn’t know what side of the bed Peter slept on.   


Peter must have sensed Stiles’s unease and came over, pulling the covers back. “Climb in sweetheart, it's too cold to stand about, even for me.” Peter gave Stiles a grin, flashing his eyes mischievously.

Climbing under the covers, Stiles marveled at the softness of the quilt that covered him, and the way the pillows smelled of Peter. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth, then felt the bed dip as Peter climbed in. Without much thought, Stiles rested his head on Peter’s chest. Peter let out a sound that Stiles could almost swear was a purr. 

A niggling, insecure voice in Stiles’s head kept prodding him. Did Peter just feel sorry for him, or worse, was Peter just looking to have his way with him? Stiles burrowed closer against Peter’s chest to chase away the pesky thoughts. That didn’t sound like his Peter at all. He smirked at the  thought - _ his Peter. _

“I can hear you thinking, Stiles,” Peter laughed softly.

“Do you really want this – me, I mean?” Stiles ducked his head, not wanting Peter to see the insecurity in his eyes.

A warm hand cupped Stiles’s chin, tilting his head until he was looking at Peter. “Stiles, I very much want this, and don’t think that just because I'm not rushing to take things further, I don’t want you. This is all very new to you, and I don’t want you doing anything just because you feel you should.”

Stiles nodded, and asked the thing he wanted to know most. “Would you ever want me to be your boy? I mean, would you want to be my Daddy?” 

Peter moved his arm and encircled Stiles’s waist with it, pulling him gently against his side. “I would love that. I would love to have you as my sweet boy. But again, something I'm not about to rush into.”

“Are there web sites or forums I could read, you know, research about it? I mean, I already feel like I would love it, but I want to know more.” Stiles rested his head against Peters chest, relaxing as Peter breathed in and out, slow and steady. Stiles slowed his nervous breaths to sync with Peter.

“That’s a good idea, and in the morning, I’ll set you up with my laptop. You can research while I work on a commission, sound good?” Peter’s voice was a soft purr. Stiles could grow used to this, he mused. Maybe he could risk hoping for a future with Peter.’

“Now, sweet boy. Kiss me, and then off to sleep with you.” Peter’s voice had that hint of command that Stiles found exciting but strangely comforting. It was nothing like when the elders had barked orders at him, for that had promised only misery. Peter’s voice, on the other hand, promised sinful, wonderful things, and Stiles suspected he would be helpless to deny Peter anything.

Tilting his head up, Peter covered Stiles’s mouth with his own. The kiss was soft and sensual, and after their mouths parted, Peter pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Sleep, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all hugs ,, please come yell with me over the wondeful Teen wolf men at my Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/msridcully


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome face from the past ..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are on the home stretch guys I'm just so amazed and thankful to you all...Bunnywest and Greenie have just the worlds best cheer leaders and Bunny's comma wrangling is a Gods send <3   
> Next chapter update may be a few days longer wait as we have just adopted a new Horse dog and she is taking a fair bit of time at the moment and having to prove we Still love our House God Gary (cat) but only a few days I promise <3 
> 
> ** this chapter contains a small conversation about spanking but no actual spanking,** just a heads up

When they woke, after a rather toe-curling morning kiss with Peter, they came downstairs and ate a healthy breakfast. Stiles wasn’t so keen on the bowl of muesli that was placed in front of him. He scowled at it, looking over to where the boxes of his weekend cereal sat. 

Peter let out a snort as his gaze followed Stiles’s. “Tomorrow morning Stiles, we have a deal, remember?” 

“Yes, Peter.” Stiles sighed and took a begrudging spoonful of the muesli, It wasn’t that bad, Peter had cut up fruit and put a big dollop of yogurt on top, but that box of Cookie Crunch called to him. One more day, he consoled himself, and they would be his -- oh yes, all that sugary goodness. 

After breakfast, they donned heavy coats and boots, and Peter led them out to the workshop. 

Peter's workshop was not what Stiles had imagined. In his head, he had pictured a woodshop, full of dust and half-finished projects, not the immaculately clean and organized space in front of him. The Shop, as Peter liked to call it, ran alongside the house at a slight angle. It had large glass doors that opened out onto the deck overlooking the lake, and another set of doors that faced the gravel driveway. 

Stiles looked about the light, airy workspace; Peter had various projects hanging from hooks, organized. Ones that needed a final sand and polish were closest to the front doors, there was a workbench that sat in the centre of the room, and to one side there was a large heater, which Stiles was particularly thankful for. 

It was still overcast outside and the snow had continued to fall. Peter had said that it would get heavier again in the afternoon, so this morning was the best chance he had to get some more work done. 

He set Stiles up on one corner of the large workbench with Peter's laptop and a mug of hot chocolate, which Stiles had opted for rather than the strong coffee Peter was drinking. 

“Okay, these are the sites I think will give you the best idea of what I'm looking to share with a partner,” Peter kissed Stiles’s cheek, “or rather, with you.” Peter's breath ghosted against Stiles’s neck. He leant back against Peter, marvelling that he could do this, that Peter not only welcomed his touch but seemed to enjoy, even need it, as much as Stiles did. 

“OK.” Stiles got his best research face on and settled in. While Peter worked on a commission, Stiles started reading. 

An hour in, and Stiles was certain his cheeks were flaming. The website started out innocently enough, and the more he read the more he was able to see how the caretaker aspect of being a Daddy fitted Peter to a tee, but he also fitted the aspect of disciplinarian. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that part, but reading about spanking and some of the more creative punishments didn’t do much to turn him off. 

He risked a glance over at Peter where he was sanding down an unusual looking bench. Stiles watched as Peter carefully sanded the wood with sure, firm strokes, the action making Stiles think about how those palms would feel stroking him, or if he had misbehaved, how they would feel spanking him. 

He didn’t hate the thought. The punishments and abuse he suffered at the hands of Father Silver were nothing to do with care and correction, they were solely inflicted to cause pain, to remind Stiles he was worthless. But Peter, Stiles knew instinctively, would never hurt him like that 

“You look deep in thought. Found something you need to talk about?” Peter had stopped sanding the bench and had leaned against the workbench, arms crossed loosely, smiling. Stiles wiggled a bit in his seat, because Peter covered in sawdust and sweat was seriously hot! It took a second to remember that right, Peter had asked him a question.

“Uh, okay, um. Punishments. I'm not sure how or why they work?” Stiles decided to go for the direct answer. 

Peter frowned. “I would never hurt you, Stiles, and what I would normally do for a bratty boy, I'm not sure I would feel right doing with you.” 

Stiles licked his lips “What would you normally do with someone?” 

Peter stepped closer, head tilted in thought. “Hmm. That would depend, If it was something minor, I may get them to write out why the action was wrong.” 

Stiles’s nose wrinkled up “Seriously? You’d give them lines?” That was not what Stiles thought might happen. 

“You don’t approve of my methods?” The way Peter arched his brow had Stiles squirming a little. 

“Um no, it's just um” Stiles glanced around, trying to find a hole in the ground to hide in. This was so embarrassing.

Peter stepped up to the stool Stiles sat on, positioning himself between Stiles’s legs. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he commanded softly. Stiles lifted his eyes to meet Peter’s gaze. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Ask your question.” 

Stiles dipped his head but leaned into Peter. “It's silly,” he mumbled, cheeks burning.

Stiles shivered when Peter’s warm palm came up to caress the back of his neck. “Would it be easier if I just told you how else I deal with naughty boys?” 

How could Peter read him so well? Stiles nodded into Peter’s chest, fighting a losing battle between arousal and embarrassment.

“Well let's see, maybe my boy wasn't so much naughty as he needed to clear his mind, regain his focus. Sometimes, I find a good spanking helps to get the mind back on track.” 

Stiles inhaled sharply. What was wrong with him? Why did the idea of getting his ass spanked make his cock throb and his head swim?

A nose brushed through his hair. “Ahh. I think maybe I shouldn’t have ruled that out for you after all, given your scent.” 

Stiles sat back. “Why would you have ruled that out?” Embarrassment gave way to curiosity. 

Peter cradled Stiles’s head in his palms, a thumb gently stroking his ear. “With what you’ve been through sweetheart, I didn’t want to risk your wellbeing, or make you doubt the step we’re taking.” 

Stiles shook his head, "No. What you and I have, it's nothing like what happened. You would never hit me because it made you feel righteous or better than me, or lock me in a dark room because you knew I was afraid of the dark.” 

“Oh, my sweet boy, never. And this is why we need to talk about limits and triggers for both of us. I want you to feel safe with me, with anything we might do together.” Peter’s eyes glowed softly. “You are such a strong young man. I want to keep you safe, and believe me, I would do anything to ensure that.” Peter had wolfed out a little as he spoke, and Stiles reached up to touch Peter’s ridged brow, trailing a light finger down over the fang that peeked out between Peter’s lips. 

Peter wolfed out was a kink that Stiles was fast discovering he had. There was something so toe-curlingly good in knowing that this powerful man could be so affected by Stiles, by the urge to protect and care for him. Yo be honest, it made Stiles’s insides feel warm and gooey, like he was made of chocolate syrup. 

Stiles thought about the other things he had read on the website and wanted to ask Peter about while he felt brave enough. “So, I read about the power exchange between a boy and his daddy.” Stiles looked at Peter, who gave him an approving nod. 

“I like the idea of that. I like that I could let you take the reins, that you’d help me make decisions. Not just the sex stuff -- I mean that sounds hot -- but also, just knowing you’d make sure I ate right and...I don’t know, umm help me make decisions about if wanted to go back to school and stuff?” Stiles blushed and Peter gave a chuckle, but it wasn’t condescending, rather it was a warm sound, and it made Stiles happy.

“I love that too Stiles, knowing my partner trusts me to make those decisions, knowing I only want to guide them and give them what they need.” 

Stiles fiddled with the buttons on Peter’s shirt and looked up shyly. “I want to try that with you.” 

Peter held Stiles' face in his hands. It made Stiles feel precious, valued, and when Peter spoke, Stiles knew he hadn’t made a mistake trusting him.

“I tell you what. If you need to question me, I give you permission to do that, all right? You’re at a big crossroads in your life right now. I think it’s wise you reclaim your power first before you decide who you want to give it to.” Peter’s words made sense, and Stiles nodded in agreement. 

“I like you a lot, Peter, and I know people think I'm naive and probably stupid, but I knew from the minute I saw you in the bar that you were the one, the one I could trust.” Stiles touched his chest. “I felt it here, a connection or something.” Stiles blushed and tried to look away but was stopped by Peter’s hand cupping his cheek, that sexy smile warm and approving, 

“From the moment I brought you home, I felt the same.” Peter cocked his head, turning to the set of glass doors that faced the drive. “Stiles, into the house, please.” 

Stiles was confused. He couldn't hear or see anything, but Peter's relaxed attitude had evaporated, and his shoulders had tensed. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, but someone's coming up the road, and it's not a member of my pack.” Peter led Stiles to the back doors. “Inside now, and stay hidden until I come in.” Peter kissed him hastily then gently pushed him out of the workshop. 

Stiles wanted to argue, to stand his ground - he was done with being scared and running- but Peter had an intense look in his eyes, and Stiles recognised an alpha protecting his pack, so he quietly obeyed. Stiles ran into the house. A small utility room off the side of the mudroom had a window that looked out onto the driveway, so Stiles positioned himself so that he could at least see who Peter had heard. 

Soon, a snowmobile pulled up the drive, the rider’s face covered in a helmet, their body covered head to toe in snow gear. 

Stiles saw Peter come out of the workshop; he may have looked relaxed to the casual observer, but Stiles could see the line of tension that ran through him. The rider got off the Skidoo and approached Peter slowly, removing the crash helmet that covered their face. 

Fuck. It was Scott...No...no. Stiles looked around in panic. Wherever Scott was, the others would be, and that meant trouble. Peter was strong, Stiles could see that, but he wasn’t strong enough to take on a full group of hunters. Stiles tried to think. He should run for help, but who to? Peter said Derek and Chris lived up the lake a bit further - maybe he could make it there before Scott called in Father Silver’s men? 

Stiles backed slowly out of the small storage room, eyes furtively darting to the window before he bolted, running out the side door and then towards the trees that lined the lake edge. 

0o0

The newcomer was a wolf -- turned, not born, that much Peter could already sense, and on the removal of the helmet Peter saw it was a young man not much older than Stiles. The man had a smile plastered on his face and was extending a hand out in greeting. The open countenance was fake -- Peter could smell the fear and wariness radiating from the stranger. 

“You're on private property,” Peter growled out. He flashed his eyes and watched as the young man flashed amber back at him. “Why are you here?.” 

The Beta dropped his hand but his plastic smile remained in place. “Sorry, man. I got lost, got myself turned around. I was supposed to be heading to where the old Hale place was, heard it had been burned to the ground years ago, but was told the view out on the lake was something special.” 

The beta was shit at hiding a lie. His heart rate spiked and his eyes darted around. Peter positioned himself in front of the house. He caught a quick flutter of curtain in the bottom cloakroom out of the corner of his eye, and he knew where Stiles had hidden. 

“Well it's not burned down, as you can see,” Peter replied tersely. “I don’t know who your alpha is, but they should have told you it's bad manners to turn up at another wolve’s house unannounced.” Peter crossed his arms, waiting for the next lie to come from the stranger. 

The beta looked over Peter's shoulder, trying to get a better look at the house. Everything about the young man was off. “So now you know this is private property, you can be on your way.” 

“You must have a big Pack; your place looks huge,” The beta observed instead of answering the question.

Uncrossing his arms and stepping closer, Peter let out a deep growl. “How about you stop lying and tell me why you’re really here?” 

The smile slipped from the betas face. “So it’s true huh? Born wolves really can smell a lie.” 

“Any Alpha worthy of the title would have told you that when you were first bitten,” Peter snapped, losing all patience for games. 

“Yeah well the Alpha who bit me didn’t stick around long enough to explain much,” the beta shrugged, still trying to get a better look at the house.“Think I could have a look at the place?” 

Peter did not know what to do with the outright audacity of the beta. “Were you dropped on your head as a child, or were you always this stupid? I made it clear I would like you to leave my property.” 

The beta held his hands out. “Look man, I’ll be straight with you. I’m looking for someone, and we heard he might be in the area.” 

Peter tried to remain calm. This moron was snooping around trying to find Stiles, Peter would bet his claws. “Who are you looking for?” 

“A runaway, he left before we could help him.” The beta tried to give a forlorn look. "He needs help, he has mental issues and can be violent.” Peter wanted to snarl in the beta’s face for the outright lies but resisted the urge,instead schooling his face into a neutral expression.

“And where is it you're from exactly, what care facility?” Peter asked, and watched the beta struggle with an answer. 

“We’re a small group, entrusted with his care. He’s delusional and he might, you know, tell some lies about us. Look, we just want to find this kid and bring him back where he can be looked after.” The young man stood straighter, and Peter could have sworn the stupid boy l was trying to out-posture him. 

“Sounds like this person would be better handed over to the police if he’s found,” he answered smoothly.

The beta’s eyes grew round. “Oh no you don’t want to do that. The kid has a rap sheet and we don’t want him to suffer, we can take care of it.” The young man gave Peter a long look “You sure you haven't seen anyone strange around here? Young guy, my age, kind of skinny?” The beta leaned in closer. “ I should warn you, he’s also gay, so he might...” he pulled a face, “...you know, try and seduce you to help him.” 

Peter had to bite back a laugh at the thought of shy, awkward Stiles trying to seduce anyone. "Oh,really?” 

“Yeah. Father says he lacks morals and decency so ..I mean, it’s just a warning.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out. Do you have a card or a phone number so I can contact you?” Peter kept his face calm while the beta hastily drew out some paper from his jacket and scribbled down a name and number, handing it to Peter. 

Peter read the messy scrawl. “Scott McCall.” with a number written under it. 

“Right, now I have this you can get the fuck off my property.” Peter bared his shifted fangs. 

Scott moved back, flashing his eyes. “Jesus, they weren’t wrong when they said you were nuts. Just call me if you see the kid, okay?” 

“I’m sure I won't,” Peter muttered as he watched Scott back towards the Skidoo. 

Once he was certain the Skidoo had left with its unwelcome passenger, Peter bolted to the house. The storage room was vacant. Peter sniffed, trying to find Stiles’s scent. Peter took the stairs two at a time heading upstairs, the scent of Stiles’s fear cloying and bitter, but there was no sign of the boy. 

Closing his eyes he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. There. If he concentrated, he could smell Stiles, the trail heading towards the side door. Mother moon, he pleaded silently, don’t let anything have happened to his boy. 

Grabbing his phone he hit the call button as he ran out the side door. “Chris, we have a situation, I need you and Derek to get here and do a perimeter sweep, and if you have any of those ward stones Deton made up before he left, bring them, they’ll do the job until I can put Liz’s down.” 

“OK,” Chris replied without question. ”Derek and I are on our way.”

Thank mother moon for Pack mates that didn’t ask superfluous questions. Chris would know what to do. That just left Peter the job of finding his boy. He glanced at the sky, watching the clouds thicken and swirl, the temperature was dropping fast and the snow starting to fall heavily. He had to find Stiles, and soon.

0o0 

_ Damn it, this was the stupidest Idea, yeah let's run for help Stiles, maybe should have tried to work out where we were going in the first place, _ Stiles mentally berated himself. The snow was falling steadily in fat clumps and the sky was growing darker, and Stiles had got himself all turned around and now had no idea where he was. 

What if it was too late? What if he had failed and Father Silver’s men were descending on the house? He had to go back; he couldn't leave Peter to fight his battles. His heart clenched when he thought of his Alpha wolf.  _ He's not yours Stilinski,  _ the voice in his head taunted him. But Stiles desperately wanted him to be. Stiles still had a hard time believing even after last night that Peter wanted him as much as he wanted Peter, and now he had run off. Would Peter be angry with him, disappointed? Would he reject him now that he knew what an idiot Stiles was?

The knots in his stomach had been twisting and tormenting him for what seemed like hours, and they didn’t let up. Had he done the right thing? He had, hadn't he?

A distant sound grabbed his attention. 

Was that a howl? Was Peter looking for him? Stiles was torn between yelling out for Peter and keeping silent, afraid Peter would be angry with him.

In the growing darkness, Stiles could see movement in the trees. His first instinct was to bolt but he couldn’t move, glued to the log he was sitting on. The shadowy movement turned into a figure. It was Peter, wolfed out and eyes glowing. Stiles could hear the Alpha’s ragged breathing. It sounded like Peter had run a marathon. Peter's eyes seemed to glow even brighter when he saw Stiles, and Stiles felt a surge of relief. Peter looked far from his normal put together self. His hair was full of leaves, and he’d managed to rip his jacket on his charge through the forest.

Stiles was filled with remorse for making Peter worry, calling out “I’m so sorry!” before Peter even reached him.

Peter slid to a stop in front of Stiles, dropping to his knees on the snowy ground. “Don’t you dare apologize.” 

Stiles was yanked from the log into Peter's arms. “My sweet boy. I was so worried, I thought they had taken you.”

Stiles started sobbing against Peter's chest. “I wanted to get help, but I got lost, and then I started to panic, I'm sorry Peter.”

Peter held him tighter “No no sweetheart, don’t apologize I’m safe and Scott’s gone.” Peter stood still, holding Stiles in his arms long enough to warm him at least a little before pulling him into a bridal carry. “I need to get you home and warm.”

Stiles was overwhelmed with the strength of his emotions. Was it possible this was love? Yes, he admitted, he was already falling in love with Peter. And now he’d failed him, he’d run away. Stiles started to sob, unable to stop, the pain of his perceived failure and Peter's gentleness breaking something in him. Clinging to Peter, he said what was in his heart. “Daddy, take me home...please.” The word felt so right. Peter cared for him, came out in the snow and the cold to find and rescue him. He made Stiles feel safe, and Stiles wanted Peter to be his daddy if he would have him.

The deep answering growl Peter made didn’t frighten Stiles. It was the sound of security, of care. Peter cradled him against his chest as they moved back to the house, murmuring soft words of love and affection, but Stiles couldn’t answer, just sobbed and clung to Peter like a lifeline.

0o0

Peter ran all the way back to the house. Stiles’s sobbing had tapered off but he could smell the misery coming off his boy in waves. He was frozen through after being out in the cold for so long. As Peter got to the house he spotted Chris’s skidoo parked out the front, and Chris was already at work laying down the ward stones around the house. They were not as potent as the ones Peter had from Liz, but they would give Peter a chance to get Stiles out if anyone not pack ventured onto the property.

Derek came out of the woods on the other side of the house, his pale amber eyes glowing in the early evening gloom. “You found him?’

Stiles shivered in his arms and Peter pulled him closer. “I did. He's had a bad experience and I need to take care of him.” Derek and Chris both gave Peter a look of understanding.

“The wards and traps are all set and I keyed them in to alert us as well,” Chris said without preamble. “Glad you got your boy back safe, we'll be over in the morning.” Chris would know Peter's instincts were amped up to care for Stiles and he didn’t tarry, leading Derek back to the snowmobile and giving a wave as he gunned the motor.

Peter pulled Stiles closer, his grip tightening. “Alright sweetheart, let's get you inside and warm, ok?’

Stiles nodded, eyes still damp with tears.”Please.”

Peter headed inside, only stopping to arm the alarm, then strode towards the stairs. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

Stiles’s arms tightened around Peter’s neck and he let out an adorable squeak as Peter carried him upstairs. Stiles patted Peter’s chest lightly. “Werewolf strength, huh?”

Peter smiled, his wolf happy that Stiles was pleased at his display of strength. ”You approve?”

Stiles made a happy noise. “Mhmm, if it means I get to be carried around.”

Peter strode through the master bedroom into his bathroom and sat Stiles atop the toilet seat. “I'm going to run you a warm bath, okay sweetheart?” 

Stiles’s teeth chattered, probably feeling the chill now that he didn't have Peter’s body heat next to him. Peter hated having to let go of his boy, but he needed both hands to get Stiles undressed.

Stiles fumbled with his sweatshirt, and Peter moved his hand away. “Let me take care of that for you, sweetheart.”

Peter slowly removed Stiles’s clothes, his touches gentle but assured, his fingers brushing over Stiles’s skin in a sensual dance. Stiles blushed, but smiled shyly as Peter helped him step out of his jeans. Finally Stiles stood before Peter naked, his face turning pink at Peter's open appraisal.

“You are a beautiful man, Stiles, my beautiful boy.” Peter leant in and brushed a kiss to Stiles’s temples.

Biting his lip, Stiles gave Peter another shy smile. ”I - ugh - thank you.”

Peter smiled. “Good boy.”

Stiles’s brow furrowed in adorable confusion. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t argue with me. You are a beautiful man, and I intend to show you how much you affect me.” Stiles’s eyes dropped to where Peter's jeans strained against his erection. Stiles’s blush darkened to a lovely rose. “Yes darling, this is because of you. But first and most importantly, I want to get you into a hot shower, it might warm you up quicker.”

“Are you going to wash me?” Stiles asked softly, a hand coming out to touch Peter's arm.

“If that's ok with you, baby. I want to take care of you tonight.” Peter kept his voice low and gentle, the last thing he wanted to do was push his boy, but he needed to touch Stiles, to prove to himself and his wolf that Stiles really was here and safe and his.

“Please?” Stiles reached out to undo the buttons of Peter’s shirt but his cold fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

“Here let me, then we can get warm.” Moving Stiles’s hands, Peter quickly disrobed, aware of Stiles's heated gaze. His boy still smelled tired and sad, but that alluring scent of arousal was starting to sneak through. Peter wanted his boy to always smell like that. 

He guided Stiles into the shower, letting the spray start to warm Stiles’s skin. Grabbing a soft flannel, he lathered it with his unscented body wash. The only scents he wanted on Stiles’s skin tonight was both of theirs.

Turning Stiles around, he started to run the lathered cloth along his boy's broad shoulders, massaging as he washed. Stiles leaned into the touch, making soft sounds of pleasure. Peter purred at how receptive Stiles was. He wanted Stiles to feel warm, safe, and most importantly, his.

He ran the cloth down to that gorgeous bottom. Peter let himself picture what it would be like to see that sweet, round ass surrounding his cock. He groaned at the image then pushed it aside. He needed to care for his boy’s needs first, get Stiles warm and in bed, and then they needed to talk. Stiles needed to know that scaring his Daddy like that was not a good thing, but he also needed to know that he never needed to run, that Peter would do everything in his power to protect him.

Stiles turned in his arms, a sweet smile gracing his plush lips.”How do you do that?”

Peter tilted his head in confusion. “Do what, sweetheart?”

Stiles leaned against Peter, resting his forehead against his shoulder. “Make me feel warm and safe and sexy all at the same time. When you touch me, I feel like I can just let go, fly.” Stiles smelt happy, if a little confused. Peter loved the feel of a wet, warm, Stiles in his arms, but soon enough the shower would go cold. But there was still something he could do to help his boy fly.

“Darling that's how I always want you to feel. Let me show you.” Peter slid his hand down between their bodies. They were both achingly hard now. Wrapping a firm hand around them both Peter slowly stroked them. Stiles made the sexiest sound against Peter's neck, wet kisses against his throat urging him on. Trailing his thumb over the head of Stiles’s cock in a soft caress had his boy shuddering in his arms.

“You like that sweetheart? It's such a pretty cock, and you know whose it is?” Peter growled into Stiles’s ear. He could no longer hide how possessive he had become. Yes this was moving fast, but he could tell from Stiles’s scent that he wanted this. They both needed this, like they needed each other.

“Yours, Daddy,” Stiles stuttered out, his hips thrusting into Peter's warm grip. Their combined scent was driving Peter's wolf crazy with need.He knew he wouldn’t last long, but first he wanted to watch his boy come from his touch. He let his other hand trail down and gently caress Stiles’s bottom, letting his fingers trace over the sweet dips and curves. Slowly he let his fingers drift gently to the crease of Stiles’s ass, exploring. Stiles’s hips thrust again and he let out a tiny whine before Peter claimed his mouth in a slow sensual kiss.

“Come for me sweetheart, show Daddy how good you feel.” Peter bit gently at Stiles’s kiss reddened lips, the hand on their cocks moving faster, firmer. With his other hand, he pressed a finger gently against Stiles’s perfect hole.

Stiles came with a broken cry, back arched, fingers digging into Peter's biceps. It was beautiful, the pungent scent of Stiles’s come filling the air, and Peter groaned and came mere seconds after Stiles. They stood panting into each other's mouths, hands roaming in a flurry of soft touches.

Peter finished washing them both, reveling in being able to care for Stiles, and Stiles relaxed and melted against Peter. Perfect, beautiful boy. 

Perfect, beautiful,  _ tired _ boy. The way Stiles was sagging in his grip, Peter guessed the promised bath would be too much for him right now, so he reached out and grabbed two bath sheets, wrapping them both up in them. 

Taking Stiles's hand he led him through to the bedroom. Pulling back the covers, he motioned for Stiles to get in, then put his bathrobe on. “I’ll be back soon. You need food and a warm drink,”

“No bath?” Stiles mumbled, eyelids already fluttering.

“Sweetheart, you’d likely drown, “Peter chuckled. 

Stiles nodded at that, and snuggled under the blankets. Peter couldn’t help but feel a possessive thrill at the sight of a warm, naked Stiles in his bed.

He went downstairs and efficiently prepared a tray of cold cuts with cheese and crackers, plus a small bowl of Stiles’s weekend cereal, as a special treat. As he prepared the tray, he sent Chris a quick text letting him know all was well and thanking him again.

He laughed loudly when he saw the reply. “You're welcome, now go look after your boy.”

Oh, he was going to do just that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my Stuffs™


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from previous chapter and Stiles gets to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry my loves for the delay in posting but life work and a new adopted horse dog kind of threw my writing off a bit..I really hope you enjoy this new chapter <3  
> All the love and thank yous to Bunnywest for being a comma wrangler extraordinaire

Stiles sat up in bed. fiddling with the soft coverlet. He felt warm and a little floaty after the shower and that handjob, but he felt a little guilty. Both times Peter -- _ Daddy, _ his mind helpfully supplied-- had gotten Stiles off, but Stiles hadn’t had a chance to reciprocate. He may not have had a lot of practical experience, but he had read enough in those fics to know that he really, really, wanted to try and give Daddy as much pleasure as he had given Stiles.

It was funny how easy it was to call Peter  _ Daddy _ . There were no awkward feelings, just a sense of rightness in Stiles's gut. And the effect it had on Peter? Well, that was an added bonus.

Stiles had loved the way that Peter had taken complete charge with him, washing him in the shower, drying him off, and bundling him into bed. And now, he was downstairs getting Stiles food and drink. Yes, Stiles reflected, he needed to think of some way to show Peter how much this meant to him, how much he appreciated Peter's care and attention.

He kind of wished he’d stuck around to see how Peter had dealt with Scott. Stiles sniggered-- Scott was too used to being the top dog. He snorted at the unintentional dog joke, but didn’t waste time feeling bad. Scott hated dog jokes, and in the past Stiles had felt sorry for Scott, had gone out of his way to help him. That was until he found out the truth. Now, as far as Stiles was concerned, Scott could go to hell. He deserved whatever Peter had said to him.

“You look deep in thought there, sweetheart.” Peter stood in the doorway holding a tray laden with food and a pot of something.

Stiles sat up, making space for Peter to lay the tray down as he got back into bed. Once he was in, Stiles snuggled against his side. “I kind of wish I’d seen you dealing with Scott.”

“That boy should never have been made a werewolf. He had no idea you were here, and his lies were utterly obvious.” Stiles could hear the scorn in Peters’s voice, 

Peter brought up a piece of cheese for Stiles to nibble, and he took it from Peters fingers with his lips. Peter purred happily. 

“You knew the boy?” Peter asked, still stroking Stiles’s back. Stiles leant forward, seeking solace in contact with Peter. He rubbed his face against Peter’s chest, his words muffled. “Yeah, he was the one who pretended to be my friend, but it was a lie.” Stiles took another bite of the food that Peter offered. 

“You can smell my scent, you found me in the woods. How come Scott couldn’t?” Stiles took another bite of the cheese and sipped the drink Peter held up for him. Food finished, Peter moved the tray off the bed then shifted his position so he was leaning against the headboard, and lifted Stiles so was across his lap so they could look at each other while they talked, Stiles gave a little squeak, blushing at how turned on he got when Peter showed his strength.

“I doubt that knucklehead could smell his own asshole, let alone discern your scent from the scents outside. He doesn't seem particularly bright.” Peter burrowed his nose in Stiles’s neck “And sweetheart, I could find you anywhere. No one has a scent quite as divine as you.” Stiles giggled when Peter nipped lightly at his ear.

“Yeah, he's kinda gullible. He bought the lies Silver told him hook, line, and sinker, thinks Silver will cure him.” Stiles’s voice dipped quieter. “But he won't. Silver has other plans for Scott.” Encased in the warmth of Peter’s arms, with a belly full of food, Stiles felt brave enough to tell Peter more, things he hadn’t shared with Lydia or Peter before.

“What do you mean,sweetheart?” Peter asked gently.

“One time I was on kitchen duty. I was scrubbing the floors. No one else was in the dining hall and I was behind the counter trying to clean, and when a couple of Silver’s goons came in, they started talking about how Sliver had plans for  _ wolf boy.” _ Stiles looked at Peter. “That's what they call Scott. One was worried that Scott would turn Omega if he didn’t have a pack, and the other said that they didn't have to worry about that, because Silver was going to force some kids to become Scott’s proxy pack. Silver wants Scott to become an Alpha for some reason, thinking he can control him and use him.” 

Peter let out a loud breath. “That’s a very dangerous game Silver is playing. I could tell just from meeting the boy he has limited control. Throwing an Alpha spark at a kid like that could have dire consequences.”

Stiles wiggled, getting more comfortable. “Yeah, Scott’s control is better than it was. One of my jobs was to teach him how to control his shift.” 

Peter was horrified-- a newly turned shifter without a pack's guidance was like a game of Russian roulette--you could bank on one of two outcomes. His admiration for Stiles grew even more, if that was possible. “You managed to help him?” 

“Yeah. It wasn’t easy, but I got him to learn to control it. He nearly got me a couple of times. That was back when I still thought he was my friend and I really wanted to help him.” Stiles leant back against Peter’s chest. 

“The goons kept saying that Silver wanted a True Alpha, and they had to keep Scott from killing anyone or they would blow their chance. Silver thought with Scott as this True Alpha thing he could control the packs, turn them into his own personal army.” Stiles said, brow furrowed. 

“Well, Silver is in for a shock. True Alphas are a one in a billion thing, but it also explains his obsession with you.” Peter frowned.

“Why?” Stiles was fascinated. Peter, like his Pops, had first hand knowledge of shifter life, coming from a place of true knowledge, and not the twisted shit Silver spouted.

“True Alphas are an amalgamation of several things. First, a Pack Alpha who would die to protect his pack, would willingly give their lives to ensure the Packs’ continuation. Secondly, the no-kill thing is bullshit-- it's actually not taking _ innocent  _ lives, so if an Alpha killed someone who meant the pack harm, then that wouldn't affect the outcome, and going feral does not actually change that either. When you're in a feral state, your wolf takes over, takes control,” Peter answered. 

Stiles nodded. That made sense.

“But the most important thing is it’s a gift from the land, given through a powerful Spark, a gift willingly given.” Peter gave Stiles a knowing look, and Stiles gasped when the realization hit him. 

“They wanted to use me to give Scott the True Alpha spark.” Stiles' felt anger bubble up. “This whole plan all along-- my parents’ deaths, the camp, everything--was to turn me into another puppet, like Scott.” 

Peter’s face paled. “Stiles, did they know you’d worked out Scott’s intentions, that you knew he was just using your friendship?” 

Stiles shook his head “No, I just started to try and distance myself from him. He kept following me around looking like a kicked puppy, kept saying I had to behave, had to do what Silver said, or I’d end up like the others.” Stiles burrowed against Peter, memories from the past resurfacing.

“What others, sweetheart?”Peter combed his fingers through Stiles’s hair. The feeling helped center Stiles, helped connect him to the now.

“The others who fought against Silver, who didn’t obey. They got sent to this cave, The Hole, and when they came back they were different, not themselves anymore, if they came back at all,” Stiles ground out. “I knew Silver was getting impatient and angry with me, so I knew I had to run. Isaac and Liam, the two that helped me get out, they were making a run for it too. We had a plan to get out, find a pack and safety, but things kind of went haywire. I hope they got away.” 

“Do you know where they were going to go?” 

“Izzy talked about a pack in California, Alpha Ito?” 

“I know Alpha Ito, and if your friends got to her I’ll be able to find out, or at least let her know they may be on their way.” Peter’s answer filled Stiles with relief. 

“Do you want to sleep now?” Peter asked.

Stiles thought about it. He was a little tired, but not bone weary, and he felt strengthened by the conversation with Peter, his understanding and willingness to help solidifying the feelings Stiles was already having for him. Maybe it was too early, like _you’ve only known him a few days_ early, but he felt like he would burst if he didn’t tell Peter.

Stiles sat up straighter in Peter's lap. Reaching for one of Peter's hands, he held it while he thought about what he needed to say, then plunged ahead. “I’m scared to tell you this, but I have to, I can’t hold it in.” Stiles inhaled a deep breath then let it out slowly. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Stiles watched the micro movements of Peter's face, half-expecting him to react with rejection, but instead he saw Peter’s eyes light up and his mouth part in a huge grin.

“That’s the best thing anyone has said to me in a very long time.” Peter’s hands came up to cup Stiles’s face and he melted into the touch, their foreheads resting against one another, he and Peter sharing air. “I'm falling in love with you too,”

Stiles's heart gave a little jump and he nuzzled into Peter’s hand. “Really?”

“Really, Stiles,”

“You don’t see me as broken, just something to fix?” Stiles had to ask-- he knew in his gut Peter didn’t see him that way, but he had to be sure.

“Oh no baby, you are an amazing young man. I was drawn to you, and I want to share new experiences with you, help you find peace and joy, not because you are broken, but because I want to share this with you.” Stiles trembled under Peter’s grip wanting to believe his words.

“But maybe I am broken, after what the Church did to me,” he whispered.

Peter’s eyes flared and he sat up straighter, pulling Stiles against him. “First rule, sweetheart. You don’t talk down about yourself. You’re not broken, you’re beautiful. Every time I hear you degrade yourself in any way, there will be consequences.”

Stiles’s cock gave a little twitch at the way Peter growled  _ consequences _ , and all he could think about was those broad palms and his backside. “Will there be many rules?” Stiles was grinding against Peter before he even realised what he was doing. 

“There will be as many or as few as I say,” Peter arched a brow, “but we will discuss them, and punishments, as we go. Nothing happens that you don't want, or without discussion first.”

Stiles bit his lip. The word punishment, for so long, had held painful and negative connotations, but from Peter it sounded warm, caring, Peter's punishments would be about helping Stiles, not embarrassing or breaking him.

“Hmmm. I think--and I could be wrong here--but spankings would for maintenance I think, not so much for punishment.” Peter’s voice was a warm burr in Stiles's ear.

“How do you mean?” Stiles whispered, pushing his hips against Peters.

“Spankings can help center your mind, the action bringing a Daddy and his boy closer, but it's also a physical reminder throughout the day that Daddy always has you, and will be there for you.” Peter's voice was a soft rasp. ”But that, my lovely boy, is something we can revisit another day.”

Stiles bit his lip, overthinking perhaps what he wanted to ask Peter. Taking a slow breath, Stiles just let the words flow, “I want to make you feel good. You’ve gotten me off twice, and I kind of want to reciprocate,” Stiles blushed now the words were out, but the way Peter's eyes darkened gave Stiles a hint that Peter wasn’t unhappy about the suggestion.

“I would love that baby, but only if you feel you’re ready.” 

Stiles licked his lips and thought about the things he had read and fantasised about. He smiled, realising he could say those things out loud and Peter would understand. 

“I want to taste you, make you feel as good as you made me feel.” Stiles looked down between them at the impressive bulge in Peter's underwear, a pool of lust swirling in his belly. That was for him--he did that to Daddy. 

Peter chuckled and with his fingertips he tilted Stiles's face towards him, “We're not point scoring sweetheart, but if this is what you really want, then I’m more happy to let you explore..But there’s no rush.”

Stiles smiled. “I know Daddy. I want to.”

“I’m going to give you a word, and you tell me if you think it’ll work as your safeword for now.” Peter gave Stiles that  _ I'm serious  _ look, like the overprotective daddy wolf Stiles was coming to understand he was. “If you want to stop anything we’re doing, anything at all, say red and everything comes to an instant halt. Understand?”

  
  


“Yes Daddy, now can I explore please?” Stiles huffed and tried for coy, fluttering his lashes. It earned him a swat on the backside which did little to chastise him, just made his cock throb.

Stiles sat back on his heels, lip caught between his teeth as he looked at Peter, feeling nervous but also strangely empowered. They would only go as far as Stiles felt comfortable with, and he trusted Peter implicitly. Peter's thumb came out to pull his lip from between his teeth. Feeling a surge of daring, Stiles nipped at Peter's thumb as it caressed his lip, then he opened his mouth, taking the digit in, letting his tongue taste the rough skin. He didn't miss the way Peter's eyes darkened, or the low purring growl that came from him. It was both exciting and arousing. 

Letting Peter's thumb go with a wet plop, Stiles slid forward and kissed Peter's collarbone, the skin warm and soft under his lips. Moving with a boldness he had never felt before, Stiles shimmed downward, pressing kisses along Peter’s skin as he went. Peters pecs were the work of the gods and Stiles found himself drawn to Peter’s nipples, their dusky pink drawing him like the proverbial moth to a flame. Tentatively at first, he let his tongue trace the firm nubs, loosely mouthing at them before drawing one in and sucking on it firmy. The low gasps from Peter made warmth flutter in his belly.

Peter’s hand was a gentle weight on the back of his neck--guiding, not forcing, Stiles’s movements. Once he had finished his in depth research into Peter’s nipples and found the ways he could make Daddy squirm, he let Peter’s hands gently steer him lower until his lips grazed the cotton of Peter’s underwear. He could feel the throb of Peters erection, warm and solid through the thin cloth, Brushing his lips over the fabric, tracing its shape with his lips, his mouth grew damp at the thought of finally getting to do this.

Stiles lifted his eyes, catching Peter’s gaze, who nodded gently indicating it was ok for Stiles to continue. Slipping nervous fingers into Peter’s waistband, Stiles lowered the undergarments that were in the way of the prize he sought. When Peter’s erection sprung fee Stiles had to bite back a nervous gasp. Daddy was huge-- how was he going to fit all of that in his mouth, let alone other places? His ass clenched with nervous excitement. Okay, he was getting ahead of himself. First, he wanted to make Daddy feel as good as he’d made Stiles feel.

Stiles threw the offending underwear over his shoulder once he’d wrestled them down Peter’s thick thighs. Okay, he could do this-- _ wanted _ to do this. Only, what if he sucked at it? Haha--sucked. Oh god, he was getting sidetracked. He cringed at himself. 

“Stiles baby, are you okay? We can stop.” Peter's calming tone broke through his rising panic and just like that, his inner freakout ceased. The care and devotion in Peter’s steady gaze made him want to melt.

“I'm fine, Daddy. I don’t want to stop.” And he didn’t --this was one of the hottest, most erotic things he had ever done, and besides, he really wanted to make Peter feel good.

“All right, baby boy.” Peter’s smile was hungry. He stretched back out on the bed, and Stiles leant forward, letting his lips press softly against the firm, hot skin of Peter's cock. It felt smooth and warm against his lips, and he could smell Peter’s muskiness. Opening his mouth, he snuck his tongue out to take a tentative swipe of the bulbous head. The tang of Peter’s precome was different, but not unpleasant. He mouthed at the head of Peters cock, enjoying the sounds that his actions were drawing from Peter. His hand slid between Peter’s parted thighs, and reaching out he gently cupped Peter’s balls, pulling another decadent growl from his Daddy.

Stiles was enjoying his newfound power. so feeling bolder, he opened his mouth and sucked Daddys length in. He was too bold, nearly choking as he slid down too far, pulling back and blushing as he caught his breath. “Take your time baby, no rush, relax and just enjoy the feeling of making Daddy feel good,” Daddy growled out softly. 

He could do that. Stiles licked his lips and slowly lowered his mouth around Daddy’s length again. Fighting the urge to gag, he breathed shallowly through his nose, focusing on how good it felt doing this for Peter. 

He hummed happily as he explored, Daddy's hands gently guiding him. “That's it baby, just like that.”

Stiles moaned around Peter’s length. He was getting hard again, and he started rutting against the sheets as he took Peter deeper into his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks like he remembered seeing in those videos and sucked gently, his confidence growing as Peter’s groans became louder and his hips lifted off the bed in time with Stiles’s mouth sliding up and down his cock. The hands in his hair grew tighter, and it sent sparks of pleasure down Stiles’s spine. He was giving Daddy pleasure, and it was doing amazing things to his own cock. He was sure he was leaving messy stains all over the soft linen. He reached down to touch himself but a warning growl from Peter stopped him.

“No touching. That's mine now, Daddy’s cock to play with. Only Daddy gets to make you come, do you understand?” Peter's eyes flared red and god, that just made Stiles’s cock harder. He nodded, his mouth still wrapped around Daddy’s length.

Peter’s hand stroked through Stiles’s hair and he wanted to purr at the touch. He redoubled his efforts, ignoring the way his jaw ached and the fact he was drooling copiously around Peter’s length. Hands tightened in his hair and Pete’rs gasped out 

_ “More, boy,” _ had Stiles groaning. He was going to come himself if he kept going.

“I'm going to use that pretty mouth now baby, if I get too much tap on my leg, understand?” Peter's voice was warm, reassuring, but there was an undercurrent of steel.

Stiles hummed his agreement quicky, wanting Peter to use him, not sure why the thought got him so hot, but it made his insides squirm with anticipation.Peter’s thrusts became less gentle, his cock sliding deeper into Stiles’s throat. The first time he gagged a little, but Peter’s soothing voice and proud tone helped him relax.

“That’s it baby, relax that throat, let Daddy in.” 

The smell and taste of Peter was all Stiles could focus on. He rutted against the sheets as Peter pumped his cock in and out of his mouth. Peter's thrusts grew more erratic, matching his own frantic movements, they were both painfully close. With a flair Stiles didn’t know he possessed, he swallowed Peter down to the root, his mouth stretched wide, air momentarily cut off. 

“Oh, baby boy,” Peter groaned, and the salty, bitter taste of Peter's come filled Stiles's mouth and he was vaguely aware of his own cock throbbing, spurting, but all his attention was on the way Daddy’s fingers tightened in his hair, and the filthy noises Daddy made as he came. 

Stiles took second to catch his breath, then let out a squawk as he was dragged off and hauled up into a messy kiss.

Breaking apart, Stiles gave Peter an uncertain smile “Was that...okay?” Peter had come, so he guessed it wasn't terrible, but he was overcome by a desperate need to hear Daddy tell him he’d done well.

Peter let out a low chuckle, pulling Stiles close to him. “Darling, that was better than okay, and I think you enjoyed it too.” Peter grinned wickedly, tracing the smear of come that was on Stiles’s belly.

Stiles looked down in disbelief “Wow-- so, that happened.” He’d barely noticed, honestly.

“Yes it did, and I'm not surprised. But from now on, good boys only get to come when their Daddy tells them to.” Peter was grinning, but the hint of command in his voice almost had Stiles getting hard again.

Stiles lay his head against Peter's chest, listening to the steady thud of Peter's heartbeat. “Is that another rule?” Stiles smirked against Peter's chest, knowing the answer already.

“Yes it is, baby. Don’t worry, we'll negotiate and write them down tomorrow. Sleep now, we have a big day tomorrow”

“We do?” 

“Mmm. I think it's time we practised with your spark.” 

On hearing that, excitement bubbled in Stiles’s veins, chasing away his post-orgasmic sleepiness, and he sat up. “You think so?” 

Stiles was abuzz with excitement-- finally getting to try and use magic was something he’d never thought possible. He’d assumed he was just human, with nothing special about him. It was exciting and a little bit frightening, but most of all, he didn't want to disappoint Peter.

Peter pulled Stiles back into his arms, chuckling. “Yes, I think it's time. Now sleep,  _ Boy,“  _ Peter growled against his ear.

“What if I can’t --you know,” Stiles wiggled his fingers. “ What if I'm not a spark after all, just plain old squishy human Stiles?” he let out a loud sigh.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing plain about you, and regardless, I'm rather fond of the squishy bits.” Peters grabbed a handful of Stiles's bottom, making Stiles laugh and slap Peter softly on the chest.

“You know what I mean. I want to help you protect your pack, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Baby, with that agile mind of yours, you’ll never be a burden. I promise, the fact you care enough to want to help means a lot.” Peter’s lips brushed against Stiles’s forehead, soft and sweet and reassuring, and Stiles snuggled against him.

He knew Peter meant what he said, but Stiles still hoped that tomorrow he’d be able to draw on his spark, if only so he could make his Daddy proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my Stuffs™ all comments swooned over


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles works with his spark , Peters so proud his heart may burst, and Derek and Chris come to dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I must apologise for time between chapters but the work thing is a killer, but do not fear this story will be finished or I shall have to deal with a grumpy Bunny :)
> 
> Again much love for the amazing Bunny west for their ninja full stop throwing

Peter looked out the window, the clouds were getting darker. He sighed. It looked like the break in the weather would not last much longer. “Sweetheart, I need to go out and place these ward stones around the perimeter. Do you want to stay here or come with me?” 

Peter knew he had promised Stiles they would do this together, but he didn’t want Stiles pushing himself. The temperatures had dropped and he would not allow Stiles to risk his health on this endeavor.

The way Stiles’s brows pinched together and his lips turned down told Peter that Stiles was not going to stay home. “I want to go with you. Liz showed me how to activate the wards and I want to try.” Stiles sat up, he smelt nervous and excited, but it was now tempered with determination. 

Peter felt an overwhelming surge of pride and affection for the young man in his arms and expressed it the only way he thought was right, tilting Stiles’s face he kissed him long and slow, Stiles responded like a flower soaking up the rain. Soft sounds and hands running down his chest had Peter purring happily. 

Stiles smiled softly into the kiss, “I made a werewolf purr,” 

Peter laughed and then mock-growled into Stiles’s neck “Werewolves don’t purr, boy.” 

Stiles nodded trying to look contrite, but his scent gave him away. “Sure they don’t. Come on, I want to see if I can make these wards work—hey do you think we could make the wards electrocute someone if they tried crossing them?” Stiles asked offhand. 

Peter had to hold back a snort. Oh, his boy had a nasty side. 

0o0 

“Stiles, seeing as you are coming with me, I thought I might, umm, shift.” Peter stood in the mudroom where Stiles was fighting with a pair of snow boots. 

“Uh, sure, go ahead.” Why was Peter asking his permission? 

“I need to strip down to do it.” Stiles's eyes went wide. “I can go into the other room.” 

Stiles shook his head “It's fine, I mean we’ve seen each other naked, and more.” Stile blushed, thinking about last night.

Peter turned his back to Stiles and started to strip down, and Stiles was so entranced by the marvel that was half undressed Peter that he forgot all about tying his boots. Peter's back was a work of wonder, and Stiles had the urge to lick it. When Peter pulled his jeans down Stiles had to have a serious talk with his dick—it was making all kinds of uncomfortable movements. 

“Damn, I got me a hot Daddy,” Stiles let out a sigh. “Are werewolves all born with perfect genes?” 

Peter looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’m glad you approve, sweetheart.” Peter shifted seamlessly from man to wolf; one-minute Stiles was looking at a perfect naked Peter Hale, and the next, a big fluffy ball of magnificent wolf, Peter was huge, his black and silver streaked coat full and fluffy and all Stiles could think of was burying his face in Peter's neck ruff. 

“Can I pet you, or would that be weird?” Stiles leaned forward, fingers itching to run through that thick fur. 

Peter let out a snort and stepped forward on his massive paws till his head was pressed against Stiles’s chest. Taking that as an assent, Stiles pressed his forehead to Peter's massive head while his hands stroked and petted the soft fur.

“Oh my god, you're so fluffy. I can’t believe you can fully shift like that, that’s like a one in a thousand thing for Weres, right? I think only one pack had it run down the family line.” Stiles knew he was babbling but Peter just huffed gently against him, letting Stiles ramble. “Oh, we should do the wards, right.” Stiles stood up and went to walk towards the door but a warm mouth full of very sharp teeth closed softly over his wrist and the wolf’s eyebrows quirked towards where their jackets hung. 

“Oh, right.” Stiles hurried to put the jacket on, more than ready to set the wards. Seeing Scott had amped up his anxiety but having Peter’s solid presence beside him, knowing he would protect Stiles, helped, and if he could channel his spark and make the ward stones work, that would also help him feel not so helpless. Not that he hated Peter looking out for him, but Peter had done everything to help Stiles, and he wanted to show Peter he could contribute. 

The fresh snow crunched under Stiles’s boots and he kept an eye out as they walked towards the wooded boundary of the house grounds. Liz’s instructions said two rings around the house, one close to the house itself and one further out, the first set of rings acting as a warning.

Stiles wasn’t sure how it would work but knowing Liz it would be something special. Stiles snickered and Peter cocked his head towards him. “Did you know Liz scared off burglars with dancing skeletons once? I mean they weren’t real but the illusion she created? Damn, it looked so real, they ran so fast out of the shop.” Peter let out a wolfy huff that Stiles took as a laugh. 

They walked a long circuit around the house past the lake and along the road line until Peter brought them to a halt by a long log fence. Stiles had dropped the small stones along the way in spots Peter had pointed to and this was the last spot for the inner circuit. “So this is where the house yard ends, right?” 

Peter huffed an affirmative. 

“Okay, Liz said I have to think about what I want to happen. This circle needs to be like a wall, but one we can pass through, and friends, right,” Stiles said out loud. Friends would be Derek and Chris, Stiles was certain of that, and Liz too. When he voiced this Peter gave a yip in agreement. 

Resting a hand on Peter, Stiles thought about what he wanted. He let his mind picture a wall of thorns, then he thought of them snaring and trapping anyone who tried to hurt him or Peter. He felt warmth rising from his toes, tingling like when you came into a warm room after playing in the snow. It rose more as he thought about how much Peter had come to mean to him, how much he would give to protect what they had started to build. The warmth grew in him, building until Stiles felt like he would catch fire. Not sure what to do, he concentrated on the image of the wall of thorns, and as he thought about it he pushed the heat from his body towards the stones. It felt weird, like pushing honey—it kept slipping through his fingers—but he focused and pushed and prodded until it felt like something caught, and then there was a soft pop and it felt like his ears had unblocked 

Opening his eyes, he gasped. The stones all glowed softly, a faint lavender hue, and when he looked at Peter the wolf glowed in the same soft light. “Oh shit, is that what I did?” Peter let out an exuberant bark then pushed Stiles over, licking him and growling happily. Giggling under a mountain of wolf-licks, Stiles figured he must have done well, judging by Peter’s reaction. 

“Holy shit.” Stiles giggled again, then blushed “I mean wow. I did that, but how?” Peter gave him an almost smug look. “Did you help?” 

Peter shook his head as if to say  _ nope that was all you. _ “OK, well I suppose we had better get the ones further out set.” Holding onto Peter, Stiles pulled himself up and followed Peter deeper into the woods that surrounded the house. 

The sky had grown dark and the snow had started to fall heavily by the time they made it back to the house. Stiles was exhausted and leant heavily on Peter the whole way there. He’d never felt so tired—not just a physical tired, but a mental one—but it felt good too. The second row of stones had taken more to activate, maybe because they were further apart, Stiles wasn’t sure. He would ask Peter once he had changed back, and once Stiles had had a nap in front of the fire. 

He turned his back to let Peter shift and dress, too tired to try and peek. Besides, he’d made sure he took a damn good look when Peter had first stripped down. He was leaning against the door frame, nearly asleep, when a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist and Peter pressed his cold nose to his neck. “Come on sweetheart, let's get you by the fire.” 

“Hot cocoa?” Stiles smiled when he was lifted up into a bridal hold, resting his head against Peter’s shoulder. 

“Yes, darling, you’ve more than earned it.” Peter kissed Stiles’s cheek and carried him over to the sofa. Peter laid Stiles on the sofa and then pulled a soft throw over him. Stiles snuggled down, feeling exhausted. “I'm going to call Chris and invite him and Derek over this evening. I think they need to know about Scott's visit.” Stiles nodded. Peter knelt and ran a warm hand through Stiles’s hair. “You nap for a while and I'll make my calls. I'm very proud of you, Stiles.” 

Stiles grinned dopily, feeling his heart swell at Peter's words. He’d made Peter proud and that felt like the best kind of wonderful. After everything Peter had done, if Stiles could at least contribute in some way, then he wouldn’t feel completely useless. Not that Peter had made Stiles feel like that—quite the opposite—but it worried Stiles a little, whether he could ever be good enough for Peter. 

Sighing, too tired to think anymore, Stiles drifted off. 

Stiles woke to a muffled voice floating in from the kitchen, and the smell of something delicious made his stomach growl, but he was cozy underneath the soft blankets. He really was hungry, though. Letting out a loud groan he forced himself upright, and holding the blanket around him he walked softly towards the kitchen.

“Felt those wards before we even got to the property line.“ Stiles recognized the soft voice from the other night. It was Derek.

“They are rather good, aren’t they?” Peter sounded pleased, which made the warmth bubble in Stiles’s chest. He had made Daddy proud.

“You’re not pushing your boy too hard?” Another voice. 

“No, Chris, I’m being careful.” There was something else not being said in that conversation, Stiles could tell, and he felt an overpowering urge to defend his Daddy.

Blanket wrapped tighter, he moved into the kitchen, zeroing in on Peter before Peter even had a chance to move, Stiles was plastered to his side.

Turning his head he looked at the other two. Derek was sitting on one of the high stools while Chris stood leaning against the counter. both men were obscenely hot in Stiles's opinion, but still, they didn’t hold a candle to his Daddy. 

“Peter didn’t push me, not with the wards or anything else.” Stiles felt Peters’s arms grip him tighter. ”He’s treated me with more kindness than anyone has in years.”

Chris cleared his throat and smiled softly. ” I have no doubt about that, Stiles. I just worry that you’re both moving fast.”

“I’m not grandma's fine china. I don’t need to be treated like I’m fragile all the time or that I'll break. Peter knows what I can and can't take.” Stiles narrowed his eyes, feeling an instinctive need to defend his man. He wasn’t sure where this bravery was coming from, maybe he was still high on endorphins from using his spark, but he didn’t care. “Dude, Peter is not gonna let me push myself with my spark, overprotective daddy wolf doesn’t even begin to cover how he is with me.” Stiles glared at Chris. Leaning forward in Peter’s arms, he poked Chris in the chest with an angry finger. “And if this is not about my magic, and is just you sticking your nose into our relationship, then kindly back the fuck off. Peter and I are adults last time I checked, and he hasn't forced or coerced me. I'm not a child. I know what I want, and that’s Peter.” 

Stiles slumped back into Peters’s arms, his outburst wearing him out. Chris wore an infuriating smirk, and Stiles had the urge to punch him.

“He’s perfect for you, Peter.” Derek spoke softly from where he sat, his unusual eyes sparkling with mirth.

Peter's arms wrapped tighter around Stiles. “He is, isn't he?”

“Stiles I wasn't trying to be insulting, it’s—” Chris ran a hand through his short beard and his smirk grew bigger. “Let’s just say that Peter can be a little impulsive and overbearing when he latches onto something.”   
  
“Pot, meet kettle,” Derek murmured from where he was sitting, flashing Stiles a smile. Stiles grinned in return.

“I don’t recall you being particularly sensible when you fell for Derek.” Stiles could hear the teasing in Peter's tone.

Chris smiled, showing he wasn’t offended by Peter's remark, and sighed. “I’ll admit I was hardly the poster boy for restraint when it came to Derek. But I wouldn’t be a good friend or pack mate if I didn’t check.” 

Peter reached out with the arm not wrapped around Stiles’s waist and patted Chris on the arm goodnaturedly. “Why don't you and Derek stay for dinner?”

Derek gave a bright smile. “I'm not going to turn down free food.”

“Who said it was free, nephew dearest? You're on potato duty.” 

Derek's pout was enough to have Stiles grinning. “I'll help you, dude. I got fast at peeling potatoes when I was at the church.”

At Derek's puzzled look, Stiles shrugged. “They thought making me do kitchen duty was a chore.” Derek's brows furrowed adorably in confusion and Stiles smiled.”I liked it. I got to work with my friends Isaac and Liam, and no one bothered us because they liked the food we made.” 

“You like to cook?” Derek moved around the counter to where Peter had gotten the potatoes out to be peeled and Stiles joined him. Shoulder to shoulder, they peeled and talked companionably. Stiles like Derek's quiet calm and the fact he didn’t bombard Stiles with too many questions

“Yeah, I do. What about you?” 

Derek gave a shrug and looked over to where Chris and Peter were talking. “I'm more the pot noodle type. Chris likes to cook, though. It's like it’s his mission to make sure I eat healthy or something.” His smile said he didn’t really mind.

“Oh man, you too? It's like Peters trying to fatten me up to eat me or something.” The mental image that came to Stiles as he said that had him blushing. 

Derek bumped his shoulder gently and smirked. “It's a Daddy thing, I'm sure of it.”

Stiles's eyes grew wide and he tried not to gape. Shooting a glance at Peter and Chris, Stiles lowered his voice. “Dude, we so need to talk.”   
  
“Sure. Peter’s not pushing your or anything?” Stiles's affection for the younger Hale grew at the concern in his eyes.

“Oh god no, he's been so damn gentlemanly,” Stiles hissed, trying to keep his voice down. 

Derek laughed softly. “I get it, more than you realise.”

“I think you and I definitely need to talk, just not when we have nosy daddies listening in.” Stiles shot a look over to the men in question, who both had the gall to grin in return. Stiles scowled and waved the peeler in his hand at the two of them. “It's rude to listen in on conversations.”

“Well sweetheart, if you want to talk about how handsome and wonderful I am, I don't mind,” Peter shot back at Stiles’s scowl.

Stiles waved a hand dismissively at Peter and turned back to Derek. “I'm going to take a guess and say he's always like this?”

Derek snorted. “Yeah, but he's a good guy. Seriously, I'm glad you found each other.”

Stiles put the peeler down and let out a long breath. “I am too.”

‘You love him,” Derek said bluntly. 

“How—wait, it's a werewolf thing right?” Stiles stammered out.

“Nope. I just know the look.” Derek shot a shy glance over to Chris, then back to Stiles. “I get it.” Derek's eyebrows did a complex dance. Stiles was almost certain they had a language of their own. “I understand what you've been through.” Derek dropped his voice lower. “It's kind of what we wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles whispered back.

“Being taken away, made to feel what you are is wrong and worthless. But I was lucky, Peter and Chris found me and rescued me.”    
  
Stiles fought the urge to ask more questions, but the pain in Derek's eyes stopped him. Stiles knew what it was like to carry that pain, what it felt like to be made to feel worthless and wrong. He felt a strong kinship for the younger Hale and hoped they could one day talk about what they had experienced. Maybe it would help them both.

They turned together at the sound of Peter clearing his throat and leveling them both with a stern look. “I think the boys have already started the conversation I wanted to have  _ after _ dinner.” 

Derek ducked his head and focused on peeling the potatoes, but Stiles stared back at Peter. “It wasn’t Der’s fault. I was the one asking the questions. And if you wanted to wait till after dinner, then you should have told us,” Stiles challenged. 

Peter arched a brow and his lips pursed in what Stiles was coming to think of as Peter's displeased daddy look, but then he smiled. “You’re quite right Stiles, and it's a good lesson, too. Rules, even ones so mundane as to when a particular conversation should happen, should have been talked about, and you didn’t know.”   
  
Stiles let out a small triumphant huff, but he stifled it when he saw the flash of something in Peter’s eyes. It wasn’t anger, annoyance maybe. “Disrespect, on the other hand, will not be tolerated, and you and I will have a conversation about that later.”

Oh boy, why did his insides do a flip flop at that thought? His skin tangled at imagining what Peter might have in store for him, and far from being frightening, it was exciting him.

Stiles gave what he thought was his sweetest smile. “Yes, Peter.”

Chris's deep laugh filled the kitchen. “Damn, Peter. You have your hands full with this one.”

“I do, and I love every minute of it.” Peter spoke with pride.

“Sap,” Chris snorted, but Stiles saw the gentle look of approval in Chris's eyes.

“Again, Pot, have you met Kettle?” Peter shot back. Stiles zoned out then, happily helping Derek with meal prep while Peter and Chris got the steaks going.

The conversation was light and funny. Chris and Peter seemed to take great joy in one upping each other or teasing, but it was never mean spirited. He also got to see the way Chris doted on Derek—not in obvious ways, but he didn’t miss the gentle touches Chris would give Derek when he walked past, the softly spoken  _ good boy  _ when Derek handed Chris a beer, or the way Ders cheeks pinked and his eyes sparkled. Stiles realised he wasn’t the only one lucky enough to find a perfect Daddy.

Once dinner was ready they settled around the large kitchen island, sitting on the high back chairs that were around it. With Stiles next to Peter and Derek next to Chris, it felt like the family meals he used to have with his Mom and Dad. Sighing, he leant his head against Peter's shoulder.

“Tired, sweetheart?” asked Peter, concerned.

“No, this is nice. I'm just...happy.” 

Peter smiled at Stiles's answer and kissed him softly on the forehead. “Do you want me to feed you, darling?”

Stiles blushed and looked over to Derek and Chris, but saw they were busy eating their own meals. Stiles had to fight his grin when Derek pushed a pile of broccoli on his plate aside and Chris pushed it back. “Eat.”

Derek’s put upon huff and the eyeroll Chris gave had Stiles fighting very hard not to giggle, but it also made him realise they wouldn’t look at him any differently if he let Peter feed him, and he wanted that tonight, the closeness and intimacy that Peter caring for him brought.

“Yes please, Daddy,” Stiles said softly. Peter's eyes flashed briefly and the smile he gave made Stiles's heart do a happy dance in his chest.

For the rest of the meal, Stiles focused on the morsels Peter fed him, letting his mind drift, relaxing in the knowledge that he was safe.

Once the meal was over, Chris cleared his throat. “Okay, I think we need to talk about what I found out, but also fill Stiles in about why what he has been through hits so close to home,” he said, giving Stiles a sympathetic look.

“I agree, but let's do this in the lounge. I think Stiles will feel more comfortable there,” Peter said and Stiles agreed. He would much rather be in Peter's arms if they were going to talk about the church and Father Silver.

Stiles found himself nestled in Peter's lap on the sofa while Chris took one of the overstuffed armchairs and Derek sat at his feet, head resting against Chris’s knee, a blissed expression on his face as Chris ran his fingers through Derek's hair.

“I think you should start, Christopher,” Peter prompted. 

“Yes. You're right, Stiles. I did some digging into the church and Father Silver, as I had my suspicions,” Chris said, his face taking on a stern cast. “I had reason to think I knew who this group and who this man is.”   
  
Stiles sat up, though Peter still had his arms wrapped around Stiles’s waist. “Did you find out?”

Chris pursed his lips, his eyes taking on a brittle light. “I did, and my suspicions were confirmed.”

Chris leaned forward, one hand still resting on Derek.”The man you know as Father Silver is in fact Gerard Argent. Wanted by the FBI and numerous other agencies, he has a list of offences against the supernatural world too long to list, but mass murder is one of them.”   
  
On hearing that, Stiles drew in a sharp breath and gripped Peter tight. Stiles remembered the sermons with a shudder, the hatred and violence that Silver had advocated as a zealous ‘humans first’ activist. It didn’t really come as a shock that Silver was a wanted man and a murderer too. There had been too many unexplained disappearances at the camp. Peter ran a hand comfortingly down Stiles’s arm as he ruminated on what Chris was telling him. Silver’s real name was Gerard Argent—Argent, the same as Chris’s last name.

“I see by the look in your eyes you’ve figured it out, or close to it,” Chris said with a bitter twist to his mouth.

“He's related to you?” Stiles asked softly. Chris nodded, looking haunted.

“Gerard Argent is my father, though I haven’t acknowledged him as that in many years. I left my family when I was 17 and Talia, Peter's sister, took me in. I kept up my training as a hunter, but put it to use protecting the pack. My father's views on the supernatural and other things was twisted and wrong, and only got worse when my mother passed away.”

“I bet he didn’t like that you ran to the enemy,” Stiles whispered.

Chris gave Stiles a strained smile. “Not at all. I left the pack for a while to study and further my training. My family in France were far more open-minded about the supernatural and I made sure I kept in contact with Talia and Peter. I arrived back home a year before the fire happened.” Stiles saw Derek take one of Chris’s hands in his and then move so he was sharing the armchair with Chris, who draped his arms around him. 

Peter ran a hand down Stiles’s back. “Chris’s family have always wanted to see the end of mine. Gerard hated my father, and then his hatred moved to Talia when she took the mantle of Alpha. He hated that my family was respected, even loved in our community, by humans and supernaturals alike. Talia wanted to show the best of what a pack was, and could be. She would help anyone and everyone. I think she wanted to mother the world if she could.” He tipped a finger under Stiles’s chin, turning Stiles to face him. “She would have adored you.” Stiles blushed and tried to look away, but Peter held his chin firmly. Leaning forward, he kissed Stiles deeply and they only broke apart when they heard Derek let out a huffing laugh. 

“Yeah, she would have, you're too cute for your own good. I think she’d be happy that you found each other.”

Stiles leaned against Peter's shoulder and watched Derek and Chris. “You said Chris saved you, Der?” Stiles fiddled with the drawstring on his hoodie, hoping he hadn’t asked too painful a question.

Derek nodded from the safety of Chris’s arms. “He did. I was about the same age as you. Kate, Chris's sister, kidnapped me. She thought she could get me to talk, and hurt me enough to spill info on the Pack. Chris and Peter were able to find me thanks to the pack bond, but while they were gone Kate and Gerard came back to the house and set it on fire. They used me as a distraction.” Derek turned in the bracket of Chris’s arms and looked at him. “I always wonder, did I let something slip, was I the reason they got into the house?”

Chris pulled Derek close. “No, pup, and you have to stop thinking like that. You were in no way responsible for what that bitch did.”

Stiles looked at the three faces that had become his new family. He could see the grief etched in each one of them. They had all suffered at the hands of Father Silver and his twisted followers. Resolve formed in the pit of Stiles’s stomach. He had lost his father and mother to the evil that was Silver, and he wasn’t going to lose this, his newfound family.

“I want to learn how to fight, how to use my spark,” Stiles said quietly, glancing over at Derek and Chris then back to Peter. “I want to help protect our pack.” Stiles missed the soft smile that Peter gave at the mention of our Pack, but he did feel Peter’s arms tighten around him.

“We could all do with some extra training, sweetheart. Tomorrow we can start teaching you properly.” Peter kissed Stiles’s cheek and pulled him tight against him.

Derek groaned. “There goes the sleep-in I was planning.” 

Chris growled playfully, “Maybe I'll just keep you up all night instead.”

Peter let out a chuckle. “Oh, I like that plan, Christopher.”

Stiles shared a look with Derek.  Typical daddies, any excuse for fun. Stiles couldn't say he minded, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your love and encouragement of my Stuffs

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my Stuffs


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